


Harry Potter and the Pie Maker

by salampsio



Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pushing Daisies, Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-01 07:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 25,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15138092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salampsio/pseuds/salampsio
Summary: Hermione decides to go to a muggle college in America to get away and to get in touch with her muggle roots. Ron goes with her. While there, they become acquainted with Ned--the pie maker. Upon discovering that Ned has the ability to wake the dead, Harry wonders if he could actually get his parents back. But Ned has limitations that must first be overcome. It doesn't go smoothly.This is primarily a Harry Potter - Pushing Daisies cross over, but there's a couple of Jedi who make brief appearances, and Doctor Who also makes an appearance to help me move the plot along.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Chapter I

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away, two Jedi sat in a small flat boat in a swamp populated with what looked like Cypress trees.

"Did you feel that?" asked the startled young Padawan. Higra Viaus was only 15 years old, but she was well trained in the Jedi arts and advanced beyond most of her own age.

"I did," replied Harsa. Jedi master Harsa Antyl was like a father to Higra. Although Higra had trained in the Jedi temple since she was six years old, Harsa had trained her personally for many of those years and he adopted her as his Padawan learner when she was eleven.

"What was it?" Higra asked.

"It was a disturbance in the force," came the reply.

"But what does it mean?" Higra knew vaguely what it meant, but such was her respect for Harsa that she always deferred to him and sought his council.

"It means something is wrong. Or will be."

"What do you mean, 'will be'?" This part, Higra did not understand.

"It is not wise to speculate about the future, but this disturbance is especially strong."

"But mustn't we prepare for the future? Aren't all promptings from the force somehow future-directed? Master Luke says the future-directedness of the force is why we appear to have such fast reflexes."

"Yes," Harsa conceded, "but this is very different. Tell me, Higra, how is this disturbance different to you than others you have felt?"

"It's hard to explain, master Antyl." Higra furrowed her eyebrows and gazed through the shadows of the trees on the water.

"Be mindful of what the force is telling you," Harsa urged.

"That's just it," Higra said as she turned back to Harsa. "It lingers and trails off as if it were a distant echo. Yet it's strong as if exploding inside my head."

"Yes," Harsa responded encouragingly. "What else?"

"I feel that this disturbance is not only temporally distant, but also spatially distant."

"That is also what I feel. In fact, it must concern another galaxy some eight thousand years in the future."

"But why? Why should the force will that we should feel such a distant disturbance? Master Luke said the force permeates everything but only gives us glimpses according to its will and our part in it. What part could we possibly have in something so remote?"

"That's a good question," Harsa said. "We must speak with the Jedi council. We must speak with Luke."

Higra smiled. "I was really enjoying it out here. It's peaceful. May we stay a little longer?"

Harsa smiled back. Higra was like a daughter to Harsa. The old Jedi order discouraged attachments, which Luke and Leia felt was a mistake. Harsa had become quite attached to Higra and cherished the rare moments of serenity they enjoyed while not brandishing light sabers or chasing cosmic outlaws through dangerous asteroid fields. Higra especially liked wooded areas, and the swamplands on New Tatooine seemed to her to be as far away from trouble as it was possible for a Jedi to get.

New Tatooine was a terraformed planet where the survivers of Old Tatooine set up colonies. Though not as populated as Old Tatooine, the tarraforming was wildly successful. Higra thought it was beautiful, and Harsa agreed. Higra's grandparents were from Old Tatooine, but they were lucky enough not to have been there when it was destroyed by the Death Star.

Or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it. They certainly didn't feel lucky at the time, being two of maybe 12,000 left of their kind in the galaxy. They were now members of an endangered species.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

It had only been a little over a year since the infamous Battle of Hogwarts when He-Who-Must-Now-Be-Named met a sticky end.

"It is good to see things finally getting back to normal," Ginny said just before sipping her latte at The Kitty Cat coffee shop. "Harry and I stopped by Olivander's on our way over here, and he was just as quirky as I remember him being when I first bought my wand."

"Oh, how is he?" Hermione enthusiastically inquired. She turned to Ron. "We have to go see him. I always liked him."

Harry smiled at Hermione. "He's his old self, for sure. He jokingly said to me, 'I wondered when I'd be seeing you again, Mr. Potter,'" Harry spoke with his best impression of Mr. Olivander's mysterious seriousness.

"I always liked Diagon Alley," Harry continued. "Besides Hagrid, it's the first part of the wizarding world I ever saw, and it was like Christmas. Whenever I come here, I still feel like it's the first time, and now it seems better than ever. I like seeing the people. I like how nobody is afraid to say 'Voldemort' anymore."

"You mean He-Who-Must-Now-Be-Named?" Ron said with a wry grin. Many people had taken to calling him that. Poking fun at their previous fears was a way of healing from the devastation that still cast a shadow over many witches and wizards, the Weasley's especially.

"How is George?" Hermione asked cautiously, not knowing how sore of a subject it might be. She and Ron had been in America for the last few months, and they were out of the loop. But she figured Fred's death would be hardest on George, and she thought of him often.

"Quite good, actually," said Ginny. Then she looked at Ron as if bursting with excitement. "Ron, the craziest thing has happened. Fred is a ghost. He appeared at Hogwarts recently."

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed.

"George and everybody thought it was a sick joke at first, but it's true. Apparently, he had unfinished business. We haven't figured out whether it's to help George or to terrorize Hogwarts, though. But anyway, he talked George into reopening Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

"That's fantastic!" Hermione said. "Oh, Ron, we have to go see him!"

"He's giving old Peeves a run for his money," Harry said. "Fred's a worse prankster now that he's dead than he was when he was alive."

"Why didn't anybody tell me about this?" Ron said. "You could've sent an owl or something."

"Because we wanted you to be here when you heard the news," Ginny replied. "Besides, it hasn't been that long. Things have really turned around for George. Mum and Dad have mixed feelings about it."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Well, they feel like he's not _really_ back, you know. He's just a shadow of himself. And they think it's sad that he's sort of lingering in some between world, neither part of this one nor the next."

"Kind of like the empty train station," Harry remarked. Everybody looked at him. He continued. "When Voldemort used the _avada kedavra_ curse on me in the forbidden forest, I found myself in what looked like King's Crossing with Dumbledore who told me I could choose to board a train and move on if I wanted. He was vague about what 'on' meant. But it was like a between world, and I wasn't sure whether I was really dead or not. I only knew I didn't want to stay there."

"Well, if it keeps George sane, I think he absolutely belongs," Ron said. "And who better than Fred to keep Hogwarts interesting? Does he stay in Hogwarts all the time?" Ron asked.

"Not all the time," said Ginny. "He shows up for dinner and teases Mum for not setting a place for him at the table. And when she _does_ set a place for him, he pretends that Mum is taunting him since he can't eat it. He never gives that poor woman a break. He'll probably be there tonight, and you and Hermione can see him. I can't wait!"

"Blimey!" Ron said.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

"Look at it!" Hermione said when she and Ron arrived outside the new Weasley home. "It looks just like it's been there for ages."

"Yeah," said Ron with a sigh. "It looks like home."

Hermione squeezed his hand, and they shared a smile before walking in.

"Uuuugh!" moaned George from the living room sofa.

"George? Is that you?" Ron asked as he quickly went to check on him. George's face was white and pasty with sores in various places. He was wrapped in a quilt.

"You look awful, mate," Ron said. "What's the matter? You got the flu?"

"Worse than that, I'm afraid," George whispered. "Had an accident today while creating a new potion for the store. Mum and Dad have gone to find Professor Slughorn. He's the only one who might know how to counter-act it."

"Can we do anything?" asked Hermione.

"I'm afraid not," came the reply. "I've really done it this time. It was supposed to be a sleeping potion, but it's slowly shutting down all my vital organs. It's gotten worse and worse over the last couple of hours, and I don't know if I can hold on much longer."

"George," Ron said as he dropped to his knees and took his hand. "Hang in there, mate. Professor Slughorn can fix this. They'll be back before you know it."

"Ron…" said George.

"Yeah?"

"Tell Mum and Dad I love them."

"Tell them yourself, stupid." He looked back at Hermione who stood shaking and in tears.

Then George stiffened, took a deep breath, held it for a few second, closed his eyes, and slowly exhaled. When he didn't immediately take another breath, Hermione yelled, "No! Don't do this to us, George! Don't do this to your family!"

Just then, a silvery white ghost rose out of George into the air. It floated to the ceiling. Ron and Hermione took a few steps back and watched.

"George?" Ron said.

"Gotcha!" Fred replied. George sat bolt upright on the couch, and they both laughed at Hermione and Ron.

"Sick, sick, sick!" Hermione said, still sobbing. "How cruel and heartless can you be!"

"My brothers," said Ron, shaking his head.

"Well after being dead, I had to make a grand entrance, don't you think?" Fred said, as chipper as you please.

"Come here!" Hermione said as she went to hug Fred, but she fell right through him headlong into the couch.

Ron finally managed a smile, still shaking his head. "You two are a menace! Will you ever stop?"

"Never!" they both said in harmony. George stood up and hugged Ron. Fred put his ghostly arms around both of them. "Come on in," he said to Hermione who obliged.

"It's so good to see you!" Hermione said.

"It's nice to be back home," Fred said, "but honestly, I've never enjoyed Hogwarts so much!"

"Where are Mum and Dad, really?" Ron asked.

"Oh, they really did go see Professor Slughorn," George said. "That part was true." He was wiping the make up off his face with a towel. "They'll be back shortly. They know you're here."

Hermione said, "Fred, I don't mean to be insensitive, but I'm really curious. Why did you stay?"

"Because I thought if I go, you all would just sit around talking to my photographs. My photographs would talk back! I couldn't have that. What if they got things wrong? Or worse, what if they got things right and told you all my dirty little secrets? So I had to come back to defend myself against my own pictures." He put his hand on his chin. "It never struck me as weird until now that pictures can talk."

"You have a point," Hermione said, then turned to Ron. "Can you imagine how Crazy Horse would feel about that?"

"Who's Crazy Horse?" asked Fred.

"Oh," said Ron, "He's a native American who fought for the Sioux at the Battle of Little Bighorn in the 1870's. He never would let anybody take his picture because he thought it would steal his soul."

Fred and George smiled at each other. "We could have some fun with somebody like that."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

"Well, it certainly is good to have Ron and Hermione back," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "Let's eat." Instead of asking Ron and Hermione about the trip, he turned to Harry and said, "So, Harry, where were we?"

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked.

"I had asked you what the function was of a rubber duck, and I don't recall finishing that conversation."

"I remember that," Harry laughed. "I thought you must be joking."

"Oh, I never joke when it comes to muggle artifacts, Harry."

Hermione piped in, "Does anyone else think it's strange that Mr. Weasley knows so little about muggles in spite of his fascination with them?" The room became awkwardly silent, and everyone looked either at Hermione or at Mr. Weasley. When Hermione could wait no longer for a response, she said, "I just find it curious is all. Whenever I'm interested in something, I want to read all about it."

"Yes," Mr. Weasley said, "but there's only so much you can learn from books about people. It's one thing to read about dragons. It's another to live among them."

Hermione smiled, and Ron rolled his eyes.

Molly furrowed her eyebrows, "Is there a bee in your bonnet, Miss Granger?" Hermione looked at Ron who only shrugged. "Well, what is it?" Molly asked.

"Tell us," George and Fred harmonized.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking. When Ron and I were in America, we visited a few universities."

"That was Hermione's idea," said Ron.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "It got me to thinking how unconventional our educations are in the wizarding world."

Arthur responded, "I'm sure muggle educations are unconventional by our standards."

"That's true," Hermione conceded, "but I wonder…" She paused. "I wonder if we've missed out on some things."

"I don't feel like I've missed out on anything," Harry said. "Do you know how many muggles would love to have gone to Hogwarts? That's the sort of stuff fantasy novels are made of!" Harry looked for a moment as if to second guess himself. "Of course our experience was more traumatic than most generations, but still fascinating from a muggle perspective."

"Harry," said Hermione, "you should know where I'm coming from. We both grew up in two different worlds, and we've seen both sides of it."

Harry interrupted. "Inspite of all the hardship I've had since finding out I'm a wizard, I wouldn't trade any of it to be a muggle."

Hermione looked sympathetic. "I forget sometimes what your childhood was like, and I suppose it's unfair to assume it was anything like mine."

Harry didn't say anything.

Hermione continued. "What I mean is that you know there's a whole different world out there and things to know that we didn't learn about in Hogwarts. Instead of taking math, science, literature, and so on, we took potions, defense against the dark arts, and transformations classes. Granted, we took history, but it was very selective history. We only addressed muggle history insofar as it overlapped with our own."

Harry said, "The French probably know more about French history than the Chinese. American's probably know more about American history than the Spanish. It stands to reason that witches and wizards would know more about their own history than about everybody else's."

Hermione replied. "But I feel like muggle history _is_ my history. Both of my parents were muggles, and both of their families are muggles through and through as far as I know."

Harry began to speak, but Molly held up her hand to him and said, "Hermione is trying to tell us something. I want to know where she's going with this."

"So do I," Ginny said, though she had a feeling she already knew.

"Ron and I have decided to attend an American university. Brown University, to be exact."

"It was her idea," Ron said. "She talked me into it."

"Why would you want to do that?" Arthur asked Ron.

"Well, Dad, Hermione has a point. I didn't see it until we went to America, but we've been living in a wizarding bubble our whole lives. And like you said, it's one thing to read about people; it's another thing to live among them. I'm not saying I want to _be_ a muggle or anything, but I definitely want to broaden my horizons."

"How would you get in?" asked Ginny. "You don't have any muggle transcripts, so you wouldn't even make it past admissions."

Hermione smiled and looked at Fred who was hovering behind Harry and Ginny. She thought he and George would not be able to resist the urge to circumvent a few rules, and recruiting them to help would get them on her side. Fred looked confused. He said, "You don't expect me to get you in, do you? I'm a ghost. We don't have that kind of clout."

"No," said, Hermione, "but you and George are clever. You found a way to sneak in and out of Hogwarts unnoticed. You found a way to get past the enchantment surrounding the goblet of fire. Surely it would be simple for you to figure out a way to get Ron and me into Brown University."

"Of course we can!" George said. "Fred?"

"Of course we can!" said Fred.

"It's settled, then," Hermione said.

Ginny asked, "Have you figured out what you're going to major in?"

"I haven't," said Ron. "I really don't know all the options. This is all new to me."

"I'm going to major in philosophy," said Hermione. "It's completely impractical, but perfectly cerebral."

"You know what?" said Arthur. He looked at Molly. Then he looked back at Ron. "I support you. I think this will be good for you. You'll be like exchange students, and what could be more exotic? We can come visit you, and you can teach us all about muggles."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

After dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went for a walk.

"So, why an American school?" Harry asked. "Fred and George could probably get you into Oxford or Cambridge if you really wanted. There are plenty of muggles at Oxford."

"I'm sure I could get _myself_ into any school I wanted," Hermione said. "I just wanted them on my side. But to answer your question, I could use a change of scenery. Can you imagine having your parents right there and not being able to have a relationship with them because they don't even know who you are? It's as if I never existed to them."

"I wouldn't know," Harry replied. "I never knew my parents at all. But at least you have memories with them. At least you got to grow up with them."

Hermione pierced him with her eyes and raised her voice. "It's not a competition, Harry! I would never claim my pain is the same kind of yours, but don't pretend like other people don't have pain just because they don't have yours!"

"Whoa!" Harry said. "That's not what I meant. I was just trying to look at the bright side. I think you have something to be thankful for in spite of your loss."

Ron took Hermione's hand. She had told him all about how after the battle of Hogwarts, she would go to all the places she knew her parents liked to go and how she would sometimes see them but would never speak to them. She would just watch them and grieve. Ron tried to imagine what that must be like and wished there was some way to undo the memory charm. Why couldn't Hermione have removed their memories and preserved them in a pensieve until after Voldemort was gone? Then she could restore them. Why the _obliviate_ spell, which wiped them completely out of existence? He never pressed her on that question, mostly for fear it would cause her even more grief when she realized her tragic mistake, but partly because he was afraid there'd be a perfectly logical explanation that would just make him feel stupid once Hermione pointed it out to him.

"I don't think I could've done it, Harry," Ron said. "Hermione is brave. She's a true Gryffindor."

"Always will be," Harry agreed.

"But did you ever wonder why the hat didn't put her in Ravenclaw? She's bloody brilliant, and nobody liked to study more than she did. She's more of a Ravenclaw than most Ravenclaws."

"Hmm." Harry scratched his head to help stimulate thought. "That's an interesting thought. I suppose she's even more brave than she is clever."

"You forget," Hermione chimed in, "that the hat takes your own wishes into account."

Harry and Ron both nodded with understanding.

"Well, it worked out great for me." Ron smiled with satisfaction.

"It worked out great for both of us," Harry said. "Her cleverness has gotten us out of a jam more than once."

Hermione said, "I guess the bigger question is why Ron got put in Gryffindor." Harry and Ron looked at her befuddled. "I mean considering his morbid fear of spiders and seemingly everything else. You must've really wanted to get into Gryffindor, Ron."

"Ha! Yeah, I was afraid of spiders, and the Chamber of Secrets, and all sorts of other things, but I never let my fears stop me. I went all the way into Aragon's cave, spiders everywhere."

"That's true," said Hermione, "but look how long it took you to ask me out."

Harry laughed. "She's got you there, Ron!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI

Fred and George did manage to get Ron and Hermione into Brown University, and just in time for the fall semester of the same year. Ron and Hermione resolved to use as little magic as possible while there, but they never went anywhere without their wands.

It took a lot of convincing, but Ginny managed to talk Harry into going to America to visit in October. They all sat in comfortable chairs and a sofa in Starbucks sipping pumpkin spice lattes.

"These are really good," said Ginny.

"Mmm," Harry said in agreement.

Ron adjusted himself in his chair, then said, "Alright, if nobody else is going to talk about the elephant in the room, I will. Harry, you've gotten fat. What's going on, Mate? You seriously need to move out of Mum and Dad's house. I think my Mum may be trying to prepare you for American Thanksgiving."

Ginny laughed. "Tell him, Harry."

"Well, it was your idea, Ginny." Ginny stared at him, but didn't respond. Apparently, Harry thought, he was going to have to do the talking. Obediently, Harry turned back to Ron and said, "Well, being a wizard without age restrictions has made me lazy. I mean why get up to do anything when a swish of the wand and a flick of the wrist can do it for you? Uncle Vernon used to make me cook and clean all the time growing up, and now that I'm free of them, free of Voldemort, and free of OWLS and other tests, I just don't have a lot of motivation."

"So," Ginny piped in, "I suggested to Harry that we try living like muggles for a while."

"Ha!" Hermione interjected. "Harry wouldn't listen to me, but he listens to you."

"Well, of course he does!" Ginny said. "Besides, I was curious. Dating Harry has made me wonder about the muggle world even more, which is ironic considering his lack of interest in it."

"So, anyway," said Harry, "that's why we decided to fly here instead of travelling in the more conventional sense."

"That's a riot, Harry!" said Hermione. "Only a wizard would think flying in an airplane from England to America is an unconventional way of travelling."

"I guess you're right, Hermione. In spite of growing up in a muggle house, I've fully assimilated myself into the wizarding world." Harry smiled.

"Except," said Ginny, "that you've gone overboard. You're like a kid who turns eighteen and discovers alcohol for the first time, and you've gone completely wild."

"Don't look now," Ron said, "but those people over there are watching us. I think they may have heard what we were talking about."

"I don't really care," said Hermione. "People here are mostly unpretentious. They don't care what other people say. If they heard us say we were witches and wizards, they might think we're nuts, but they don't care."

Ron said, "Being around muggles stresses me out. I don't like having to be careful what I say."

Not far from them, sitting on a couch, were three college students—two girls and a boy—who were, in fact, listening in on the conversation with fascination. They talked amongst themselves about whether they should approach Harry and everybody and whether they heard them right. Finally, one of them—the short girl with the black hair and the nose ring—got up, grabbed a chair from another table, and set it down next to Hermione, and sat in it. She said, "I don't mean to intrude, but I was just over there talking to my friends and heard you mention wizards. Are you guys Wiccans?"

"What's that?" asked Ginny.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Wiccans are muggles who pretend to be witches, only for them, it's a religion. It's a ridiculous religion, too. They think they're carrying on some ancient pagan practice when in reality, Wicca was invented by Gerald Gardener in the 20th century. It barely resembles any ancient practice. It's a mishmash. They sit in their basements, light candles around pentagrams they draw on the floor, and spout ridiculous made up mantras. It's like Halloween run amuck or adults engaging in make-believe."

The girl with the nose ring sat dumbfounded with her mouth open. Hermione thought it almost looked like she was going to cry, which made Hermione immediately regret her words.

"You're a Wiccan, aren't you?" Hermione asked with regret in her voice.

"Yes," came the reply, somewhat firmly.

"I am so sorry," said Hermione. "Really. I've just been so stressed lately because of tests and everything. I honestly don't know that much about your religion."

"Yeah, that much is obvious," said the girl with the nose ring. "But, you know, I'm not offended. Most people have misconceptions about us. Like, we don't sacrifice cats or ride broom sticks or anything like that. We value life, and we believe that witchcraft should never be used to harm people."

"You don't have to be a witch to believe that," said Ron.

"That's true," the girl conceded. "Anyway, I came over here because after overhearing your conversation, we thought you might be witches."

"What's your name?" Ginny asked.

"I'm Carol."

"I'm Ginny. This is Harry, and that's Ron and Hermione."

"How do you spell Hermione?" Carol asked Hermione.

"H, E, R, M, I, O, N, E."

"I like that name," Carol said smiling. "I am sorry to have bothered you."

"No, it's okay!" Hermione said. "I should apologize to you! I was incredibly rude."

"It's okay." Carol walked back to her friends and sat down.

"I am such an idiot," Hermione said, putting her face in her hand.

"You have to admit, it's pretty funny," said Harry. "Not that you insulted her, but that there's a religion where muggles pretend to be witches, and here we are, real witches. I wonder what they would think if they knew."

Carol bolted out of her seat, flew to Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, and said, "Now, I know I heard that. You just called yourselves witches. I know it's none of my business, but you have really piqued my curiosity. I get that you're not Wiccans, but what exactly do you mean when you say you are witches?"

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione searched each other's faces, hoping somebody else would speak up.

"Why the awkward vibe?" asked Carol. "Is it a big secret? If you don't want to talk about it, I'll walk away. But please understand that as a Wiccan, I am often misunderstood. People think I'm strange. So don't think I'm going to judge you or anything. I'm very open-minded. I don't want to pry, but you can trust me."

"Why not?" Ron said to the group. The group didn't say anything. "Okay, here's the deal," Ron said, turning back to Carol. "We really are witches. We have powers and abilities that most people don't have that would blow your mind. All four of us went to a wizarding school to learn how to use our abilities. We are from a whole society of witches. We have our own schools, our own shopping centers, and even our own government. And get this!" Ron smirked. "We really _do_ fly on broomsticks."

Carol laughed. "I love it!" she said. "Will you teach me how?"

"I would if I could," Ron said, "but you have to be born a witch. You can't just learn to be a witch."

"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"Oh," said Carol in surprise. "Is it a secret?"

"No," Hermione said. "Ron is just being ridiculous."

"You're not just making fun of me, are you, Ron?" Carol asked. Ron thought she might have been offended, but she had a playful smile on her face which Ron could not read. Maybe she didn't believe him and was just going along with the 'joke.' "I want you to meet my friends," Carol said. She turned around and motioned to her friends to join them.

Hermione leaned into Ron and whispered, "What are you doing?"

Ron whispered back. "You said you don't care."

"I didn't mean we should just tell people all about ourselves!"

"She's not going to believe any of that, Hermione. Relax."

Carol introduced her friends, who were still standing. "This is Steve, and this is Jennifer."

"Hey, Steve and Jennifer!" Ginny said.

"I'm sorry," Carol said. "I've already forgotten your name."

"I'm Ginny, and this is Harry."

Carol turned to her friends. "And this is Hermione and Ron."

"That's a great name, Hermione!" Steve said. Hermione thought Steve was awfully skinny. She wondered how old he was because it looked like he was bald on top.

"Well, why don't you get a chair and sit down," Ginny offered.

"Thanks," said Jennifer. She and Steve sat down. They quickly got off the subject of witches and were soon talking about school. Ron explained that Harry and Ginny were not in school but were just visiting from England and that Ginny was his sister. They continued to drink coffee and chat for another hour, getting along famously. Then Jennifer leaned forward and said in a hushed tone, "Do y'all see that creeper at that table over there?"

"The one covered from head to toe with his head wrapped up like a mummy?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," said Jennifer, "He keeps looking over here. That dude has a black aura, and he is weirding me out."

"Oh that's Charles," said Hermione. "He comes in here all the time. He's a really nice guy."

"You know him?" Jennifer asked.

"Not really, but I've talked to him. He's a regular."

"Why does he dress like a mummy?"

"He was in a bad accident and has severe burns on his face. He's a little self conscious about his appearance."

"Gosh," Steve said, "I'd be self-conscious about walking around like a mummy. People understand having burn scars, but walking around like a mummy seems like a good way to get arrested. Does he go to the bank dressed like that?"

Harry laughed. "At least he doesn't wear a ski mask."

"I'd wear that before I'd go around with my head wrapped up in a bandage," Ron said.

About that time, Charles got up and walked out. Ginny said, "I wonder if he heard us."

"Blimey, we must be loud," Ron said.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter VII

"So," said Harry, "have you decided on a major yet?"

"No," Ron replied. "I talked to a counselor about it, but she thought I was an idiot. Right now, I'm taking basic classes, but my major is undecided." Ron took his hands out of his pocket to pick up a cup from the ground. It was mostly a clean park, but somebody had just left a dirty paper cup right there on the trail. "I was thinking maybe history. I think that would be the best way for me to learn about muggles."

"If it were me, I'd study physics."

"Why is that?" asked Ron.

"It's interesting," Harry said. "Besides, I'm curious if there's any overlap between magical theory and physics. Physics is supposed to be a description of the physical world at its most basic level. It underlies all of the other physical sciences. Wouldn't it be neat if there was something like a theory of everything that reconciled modern physics with magic?"

"It might take the magic out of it," Ron punned.

"Yeah, that's probably silly since magic is, well, _super_ natural."

"I was joking," Ron explained.

"I know, but it's still a good point." Harry looked around the park and said, "Where were we supposed to meet them?"

"Hermione said there would be some park seats and a lamp post we can't miss if we stick to this trail. Oh look! There they are."

Harry and Ron found Ginny and Hermione sitting on a bench looking through some book.

"Whatcha got there?" Ron inquired. He threw the paper cup in the trash.

Ginny replied, "Hermione was just showing me pictures of her parents. The pictures don't move."

"Muggles aren't the best photographers," Harry chimed in.

"Oh, I took most of these pictures, Harry." Hermione smiled. "I was just camera challenged. Of course I knew the right spell, but I wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school, so this is what I have."

"Let me see," Harry said as he sat next to Hermione. Hermione moved the album from Ginny's lap to his. As he turned the pages, he said, "I'm so sorry about this Hermione. I can't imagine how it must feel to know that your parents are alive and well and not be able to talk to them."

"Thanks, Harry. I think about talking to them all the time, only they wouldn't know me."

"Why don't you, then?"

Hermione sat in silence for a moment, then said, "I just don't know if I could handle it. I have to keep reminding myself. . ." she trailed off. Then she continued, "I have to remember how uncertain things were when Voldemort was around, and I wouldn't risk their lives for anything. At least they are safe, and they aren't even suffering."

At that, Ginny put her arms around Hermione. Then she let go and said, "Wouldn't it be great if we had a time turner? Then we could go back and visit all the people we lost during those dark times?"

"Or better yet," said Ron, "if we had the resurrection stone and could bring them all back."

"It doesn't exactly work like that," Harry said. "People can't _really_ be resurrected. You just see a semi-corporeal version of them as long as you hold the stone. They don't really come back to life in the full sense of the word. Although I'd do almost anything to have my parents back from the dead."

"Only Jesus can raise people from the dead in the full sense of the word," Hermione said.

"Ha!" Ron laughed. "If only it were true!"

"It _could_ be," said Hermione.

"What?" Ron was indignant.

Hermione explained, "Anything is possible. I don't know how you can be a wizard and be surprised by much of anything."

"I'd be surprised if Jesus or anybody else could raise the dead," said Ron.

Harry chimed in. "Well, it's in the story anyway. I guess if it were true, I'd have that to look forward to. I could see my parents at the resurrection. Just before we all roasted."

"Why do you think you would roast?" Hermione asked.

"Because we're witches," Ginny answered.

"So?" said Hermione.

"So," said Ginny, "I'm pretty sure that witchcraft and Christianity don't go well together. We'd probably burn in hell just for being born."

"I don't think so," Hermione insisted. "In fact, I'm pretty sure lots of witches and wizards have been Christians." She looked at Harry. "If you'll recall, there's a church in Godric's Hollow, and your parents are buried in the graveyard right next to it. Your parents might've even been Christians."

"How can a witch or wizard be a Christian?" Ron asked. "Christians used to burn witches."

"I don't think they burned any _real_ witches," Hermione said.

"They tried," Ginny said, "and they would if they could."

"Only out of ignorance," Hermione said.

"Out of obedience," Harry said. "It's in the Bible. It says, 'Don't suffer a witch to live,' or something like that."

"You can't blame them, really," said Hermione. "Think about it. All the prohibitions against witchcraft in the Bible are about three thousand years old. There was no Ministry of Magic back then. There was no Azkaban. There wasn't even a distinct wizarding world. Witches lived among muggles, and it must've been a scary time for the muggles since witches wielded quite a bit of unusual power, and there was no Ministry to govern them. I'm sure most witches back then were decent people like they are today, but what do you do with the ones who aren't decent people? Muggles had every reason to fear them, so it's only natural that they would forbid witchcraft. I'm willing to bet that many devout Jews were born witches. The Mosaic law didn't forbid having magical abilities; it only forbade using them. So they probably just obeyed the law and lived like muggles."

"That does not sound like much fun," said Harry.

"Besides," Hermione continued, "unless you're a Wiccan, witchcraft isn't even a religion. It's just kind of a sixth power. Morally, it's neutral, so there're no reason a witch or wizard couldn't be a Christian."

"Hermione?" Ginny said quizzically. "You're not a Christian, are you?"

"No," she replied.

"Then why are you defending them?" Ginny's tone was more curious than accusatory.

"I like to think I'm a fair-minded person. I knew very little about Christianity growing up, and we didn't hear much about it at Hogwarts either. . ."

"That's because there are no Christian witches," Ron interrupted. "I heard enough about it growing up. And we _did_ hear about it at Hogwarts if you remember our history lessons."

"We got a biased version of it," Hermione responded. "I know two Christians from my intro to philosophy class, and they do not seem like the kind of people who are into burning witches. They had some interesting things to say about it in class, and I've talked to them some outside of class, too. The subject of resurrection came up when we were talking about David Hume's argument against miracles."

About that time, Ginny and Hermione both noticed that somebody was near by standing next to a tree in the shadows.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter VIII

When Charles appeared out of the dark, Ron shot up out of his seat.

"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that all wrapped up like a mummy!"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded him, embarrassed by his lack of tact.

Charles chuckled and gestured to his face, "You like the look? It does make an impression, doesn't it?" They all wondered if he was smiling under the bandages. "Anyway, I hate to break up a good religious argument, but I was really interested in all that talk about resurrection."

Hermione felt the blood rush from her face and a chill run through her body. Although she thought Charles was harmless enough, she desperately wanted to keep up the pretense of being a muggle during her sojourn at Brown. Perhaps she and Ron had let their guard down too many times. Neither she nor anybody else knew how to respond to Charles.

"If I understand right," Charles went on looking at Harry, "you lost your parents."

"You're Charles, right?" Harry asked.

"Yes, sorry. I should've introduced myself." He held out his hand. "Charles Charles."

Harry grasped his hand and said, "I'm Harry Harry. This is Ginny Ginny." Ginny smiled uneasily.

"Yes, my parents were killed when I was just a baby," Harry explained.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Charles said. "Not to diminish the humour in your introduction, but Charles is my first name, and Charles is also my last name. My parents had a sense of humour, too."

"Oh!" Harry said, a little embarrassed but still mostly taken aback by Charles' presence.

"Don't worry about it. I always introduce myself by my first and last name for the express purpose of elicited responses like yours. It's a little game I play, and you did not disappoint." Charles paused. "Anyway, about resurrection."

Ginny put her hand on Harry's arm. She didn't know where this conversation was about to go, but she wanted to let Harry know she was there.

Charles continued, "I know somebody who also lost his parents at a young age. Worse, he has always blamed himself for his mother's death."

"Was it really his fault?" Harry asked?

"No, I don't think so, Harry. But he is to blame for mine."

Ginny piped in, "What?" She looked at Hermione, confused. Hermione returned the look.

"Charles," Hermione began, "did you just say this guy you know is responsible for your death?" That was sure what it sounded like Charles said!

"Yup," came the reply, "but that's alright. He brought me back. All is forgiven. I _had_ to forgive him because now he's my son-in-law." He looked at Ron, and Ron only looked amazed. "You're probably wondering now if I really am a mummy." Charles laughed.

"Or bonkers," Ron said.

"Okay, maybe I am bonkers," Charles said, "but I once was dead, and now I'm alive. My son-in-law, who was not my son-in-law at the time, woke me from the dead." Nobody said anything. He looked at Hermione. "I tell people I was burned to explained the bandages, but the truth is, I was dead for a long time before I was raised, and I ain't what you'd call man-pretty. Folks can accept that a guy was injured in a fire, which I don't mind." Charles raised his hands in the air and continued with an air of triumph, "But I was resurrected."

Even Hermione at this point wondered if Charles was nuts. There's a rule that transcends both the muggle world and the wizarding world: aside from maybe Jesus, dead people generally stay dead. The only reason Voldemort came back was because he never really died.

Charles said, "Now, I know you're all a little freaked out. Let me freak you out some more before I explain myself. I know the four of you are real witches from the UK. I know you're part of a whole wizarding world, that magic is real, and I know you'd like to keep it quiet while you're at Brown." Hermione began to speak, but Charles gestured for her to hold it, and she did. "Don't worry. It's in the vault. As I just explained, I have a secret of my own. Now, I'm a compassionate man, and my heart goes out to you, Harry. I heard you talk about your parents. The guy who raised me from the dead can raise your parents if there's anything left of them to raise. They weren't cremated, were they?"

Harry shook his head no. But what on earth was this guy on about?

"Maybe you don't believe me right now, but I want to earn your trust because I want to help you. But first I have to be able to trust you. You see, my son-in-law has a highly unusual gift. He thinks it's a curse. He has kept it a secret his whole life because he's afraid of what might happen if word got out. There are only a handful of us who know about it, and believe me, that wasn't his idea."

"How do you know anything about us?" Ron asked.

"Because I'm a good listener," Charles replied. "And I believe you, not just because of the nature of your conversation, but because my own resurrection was a real mind-opener."

"And why should we believe you?" Ron questioned. "People don't come back to life, not even in the wizarding world. It's a pretty sick joke to tease Harry like that and give him false hope about his parents."

Ginny rubbed Harry's arm.

Charles directed his attention to Harry. "Harry, I don't mean to harm you, I promise. I'm alive because my daughter loved me, and my son-in-law loved her. Maybe I'm not supposed to be here, but love brought me here." They were all listening, curious now. "I haven't told you his name because I love my daughter, and my first priority is to protect them at all cost. But if we can trust each other, I might be able to get him to help you. There are conditions, though. He cannot return your parents to life permanently. He can only do it for a minute. _But what about me_ , you ask? I've been around for longer than a minute. Yes, and somebody else had to die because of it. That's the catch. My son-in-law can raise anything to life, even dead fruit, but he has to re-dead them within a minute or else something else will die. I know it's not everything you'd hoped, but you lost your parents as a baby. You probably don't remember ever even talking to them."

"I talked to their ghosts once," Harry said.

"You can touch them and talk to them for a solid minute, Harry. You can hug them if you'd like. I want to do this for you, but you have to understand that my son-in-law isn't just going to say, 'Sure, bring them right over!' He's very secretive, as he should be. It will take some persuasion. I think that if we can show him that you have magical powers, he might trust you. Right now, he thinks he's the only one on the planet with any sort of special abilities. I think it might be a huge relief for him to find out he's not alone."

"So you're really doing this for him," Ginny suggested.

"It is partly for him and my daughter, yes," Charles admitted. "Listen, I love my family, and from hearing you four converse, I can tell that you love yours. That is something we all have in common."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter IX

The next day, it was school as usual for Ron and Hermione. Ron took Ginny to his American history class with him, and Hermione took Harry to her intro to philosophy class with her.

"That was really interesting," Harry said to Hermione as they were drifting out the double doors with the rest of the large class. "I had no idea so much philosophy went into language. I might have to check out this Wittgenstein fellow." The lecture wasn't really about language or Wittgenstein. It's just that Hermione's professor seemed obsessed with Wittgenstein and always managed to mention him in a lecture no matter what the topic actually was.

Hermione said, "Let's get something to eat. Ron and I usually meet in the food court after class. We'll probably see them there."

But it wasn't to be.

"Hermione!" came a voice behind them. Hermione and Harry turned around.

"Oh, hey Greg! Where's Mark?" She whispered to Harry, "Greg and Mark are my Christian friends I told you about."

"I don't know. Anyway, do you remember when we were talking about ghosts the other day after class?"

"Yes. That was after the lecture on Cartesian dualism, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, well, anyway. . ."

"Oh, this is my friend, Harry, by the way. He's visiting from the UK."

"Hey, Harry." Greg put out his hand, and Harry shook it.

"Hey," Harry said, sheepishly.

Greg continued to Hermione. "So the subject came up in our Bible study. Mark invited one of his atheist friends who was really into the subject. He said he used to believe in spirits and the after life because his mom was a ghost hunter."

"Uh huh." Hermione was following his words.

"But after adopting a Newtonian worldview as a result of high school physics, he no longer believed in anything outside of the physical universe. He said methodological naturalism works, so the physical world is probably all there is. I told him there was a smart girl in my philosophy class he should talk to."

"Greg, you know I'm not a Christian, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"But you want me to try to convert your atheist friend to Christianity?"

"No, I just want you to talk to him about substance dualism. He's a naturalist, and I know you at least believe in souls and ghosts. You're smart, too, so I thought you could talk to him. He's not one of those condescending low brow atheists you run into on the internet. He's a pretty reasonable guy, and he's genuinely curious, so he said he'd talk to you."

"Well, sure, why not?" Hermione said.

"Great," said Greg. "He and I are meeting for lunch, and I told him I'd try to get you to come. Why don't you come, and bring Harry with you?"

"I'm up for it," Harry said, hoping to see a good philosophical debate. "Where are we going?"

"Chick Fil A," said Greg.

"Mmm. I love Chick Fil A," Hermione said. "I could eat there seven times a day."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter X

At that very moment, in the town of Coeur de Coeur, the pie-maker's wife, who goes affectionately by Chuck, heard the delightful sound of "Concerning Hobbits" coming from her phone, though at that very moment, she did not know precisely where her phone was. "Follow the sound," advised Aunt Lily. Or at least Chuck had always called her Aunt Lily. Aunt Lily is really Chuck's mom, and it was quite the shock to Aunt Vivian, Lily's sister, when she found out. "If we don't find it," Lily said, "it will never stop."

"I found it," said Ned. Ned closed the cheese box—what Aunt Lily and Vivian called their refrigerator—and turned to display the iPhone ringing with the wonderful tune. This is the same Ned who, exactly one year, four months, seven hours, twenty nine minutes, and eighteen seconds ago said, "I do," when asked whether he really did take Charlotte Charles, aka Chuck, to be his wedded wife. Nobody asked him if he took to her be his _lawfully_ wedded wife, for you see, it was not a lawful wedding. Lawfully, one cannot marry those who are deceased, and to the rest of the world, lonely tourist, Charlotte Charles, had been murdered. Her death was public information, but her subsequent life was still a closely guarded secret—a secret kept by her and her closest friends (except Olive) to protect Ned.

"Dad?" Charlotte spoke into the phone. "Uh huh. . .You are? When?. . .Yes. . .Of course. . .Yeah. . .I love you, too. . .Okay, great!. . .Okay, bye!" She turned to face, Ned, Vivian, and Lily. "Dad is coming home."

That news shot shivers up Ned's spine.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter XI

"So you're Hermione," said Wynton who thought Hermione was a salty potato. "Hi!" Hermione smiled, holding her tray with a grilled chicken sandwich, waffle fries, and lemonade. She sat down at the table with Wynton, along with Greg and Harry.

"I'm Wynton. I 'spects Greg told you I'm the big bad atheist materialist."

"Ha! Well, he did say you were a naturalist."

"I hesitate to stick that label on myself because everybody defines it differently, and I don't want to be pigeon holed."

"What is your point of view, then?" Hermione asked.

Greg was delighted that the conversation was already taking off. He and Harry just watched.

"I mean, I don't deny abstract objects, like numbers and propositions, and the laws of logic. But those are all abstract things. They're not concrete things. When it comes to real substantial concrete things, I think the physical world is probably all that exists. And by 'the physical world,' I mean everything in the universe that is describable by the laws of physics and chemistry."

"But not biology?" Harry asked, being a bit cheeky.

"Well, I mean," Wynton began, taking Harry's question seriously, "even biology is explainable in terms of physics and chemistry."

"So basically, you don't believe in spirits, ghosts, phantoms, gods, angels, or anything supernatural, right?" said Hermione.

"Right," said Wynton. "Nothing beyond the physical universe. But you do?"

"Yeah," answered Hermione. "I guess you could say I'm basically a Cartesian dualist. I mean I know there are other kinds of dualism, and honestly I don't have the details all worked out, but I do believe some kind of dualism is true."

"Property dualism is consistent with naturalism, so maybe we're not that far apart," Wynton observed.

"I don't know what property dualism is," Hermione said.

"Property dualism is the idea that there are fundamentally two different kinds of properties that a substance can have—physical properties and mental properties. Both properties are _had_ by the same physical brain. The difference is that in substance dualism, there are actually two different kinds of substances—material and immaterial. So if you were a property dualist, you could believe that only physical objects exist, but these physical objects could have two very different kinds of properties. A _substance_ dualist believes that since there are two different kinds of substances—brains and souls—that they are separable. So you could have something like ghosts since a person's spirit could leave their body at death."

"Oh, well I'm definitely a substance dualism, then," Hermione said. "But there are different kinds of substance dualism, like Thomistic dualism, which I don't fully understand. But I'm happy to say I'm a Cartesian dualist. I do believe we are something like ghosts in machines."

"You guys have already lost me," Harry lamented before biting into his chicken sandwich. Greg ate his waffle fries and didn't say a word, but listened intently.

"So why," asked Hermione, "are you a physicalist, or materialist, or naturalist, or whatever you want to be called?"

"I don't need labels. We all agree there's a physical world out there, right? We share it. We're both sitting at a physical table eating physical food, and we can talk to and even touch each other if we want." Wynton wanted to touch Hermione at that very moment. She was a proper salt. But he contented himself with touching the air around him, sculpting precise explanatory objects that nobody could actually see but Wynton. "Science can, in principle, explain it all without having to resort to anything supernatural. Granted, there are things we haven't figured out yet, but as science progresses, each gap in our knowledge that we used to fill with the supernatural gets closed with a natural explanation. So I think the supernatural is superfluous. I'm not saying the supernatural isn't possible, but the burden of proof is on those who say it exists. While I can experience the physical world with my five senses, I see no evidence of the supernatural. I have other reasons, but what do you think so far?"

"I can see where you're coming from," Hermione replied, "but I think there are some things that science can't explain, and those things do provide good evidence for the existence of immaterial souls."

"Like what?"

"Consciousness. I want to hear some of your other reasons before we go into that, though."

"Okay. Well, I think the biggest problem with substance dualism is the interaction problem."

"I don't see that as a problem."

"It is a problem because there's no interface between the material and the immaterial. Think about it. The physical world is composed of matter, and energy. That means the non-physical world must be immaterial. The non-physical world is everything the physical world is not. Now, let's say you want to move something in the physical world. An object, like a rubber ball, that is sitting at rest has zero kinetic energy. But if it were caused to move by something else, then it will have gained kinetic energy. Where did that energy come from? It had to have come from another part of the physical universe. That means only something else physical could've caused it to move. If something non-physical caused it to move, then how did it do it?"

"Maybe ghosts can create energy out of nothing."

"That's a radical idea, and it violates the first law of thermodynamics."

"Why should a physical law apply to something non-physical?"

"The first law isn't just a physical law. Well, it _is_ a physical law, but it's based on a _meta-_ physical principle. Something cannot come from nothing."

"But spirits aren't nothing."

"They are not physical, though. They have no energy of their own to impart. They are not made of energy, so they can't impart energy." Wynton watched Hermione's quizzical face, wondering what she might say next, wondering what her lips might feel like, feeling a bit elated that his argument seemed to stump her.

Finally, Hermione said, "I don't know how anything causes anything, to be honest with you. But we don't have to know _how_ something happens before we can know _that_ it happens. We can know _that_ something happens by observing it while being flummoxed about _how_ it happens."

"We can't observe a spirit causing chemical reactions in the brain."

"Right, but see what you think about this argument. This is an argument that shows that the mind or self is distinct from the body. In other words, you are not your body, but you live in it. If I can show you that, wouldn't it prove that there must be causal interaction between the material brain and the immaterial self without necessarily showing how that interaction takes place?"

"Maybe. But the evidence would have to be pretty strong because we would have to say that in spite of the interaction problem which suggests an impossibility, it appears to happen anyway."

"Alright, then." Hermione gathered her thoughts. "Would you agree with me that instead of being a human, you could've been a dog or a cat?"

"Uh." Wynton wanted to know where Hermione was going. He was afraid if he disagreed at this point it would derail her train of thought, but her statement seemed obviously false to him. "Not if my parents weren't dogs or cats. I came together as a result of a particular sperm and eggs. If that particular sperm and egg hadn't come together, I wouldn't exist."

"Let me put it another way. Suppose you went to bed one night a human being, but you woke up in a cat body. Your mind was perfectly in tact just like it always had been, but now you're a cat. Or maybe God created you instantaneously as a cat. Who cares? The point is, you, Wynton, are a cat."

"Okay."

"Would you agree that's possible?"

"Maybe in the broadly logical sense. I don't know if it's _physically_ possible."

"Logical possibility is all I need. It's just a thought experiment. With that being the case, there is something true about you that is not true about your body. It's possible for you to have a cat body, but it's not possible for a human body to be a cat body. So if it's even possible that you could be a cat, then you are not your human body."

"Do you really think that's a good argument?"

"Yeah. I mean it's the indiscernibility of identicals. If A and B are the same thing, then whatever is true of one must be true of the other. So if you are the same thing as your body, then whatever is true of you must be true of your body, and vice versa. But since there is something true of you that is not true of your body, then you are not your body. And if you are not your body, then you are something non-physical. You, yourself, are a ghost in a machine."

"That strikes me as being a question-begging argument."

"Why? It's perfectly reasonable. It follows from the law of identity."

"Because the only way there could be a possible world in which I am a cat is if I am not identical to my human body. By raising that possibility in one of the premises of your argument, you're already assuming what you're trying to prove. If I am, in fact, identical to my body, then there is no possible world in which I'm a cat."

"But you are _not_ your physical body. Think about it. How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"So you've been around for twenty years, right?"

"Right."

"But your body is in a constant state of change. All the cells in your body get replaced within about ten years. The body you have now is not the body you had more than ten years ago. I mean, obviously your grown body is not the same body you had when you were a baby. But you yourself have been here all along. So you are not your body."

Wynton realized that he even liked the sound of Hermione's voice, but he shook it off. "I don't think that follows. I mean I've changed right along _with_ my body. There's continuity from my infant body to the body I have now. It's not like one body got tossed aside and I stepped into another one."

"But if you were nothing but your physical body, and you replaced all the parts, then you'd have a different body, wouldn't you?"

"It depends. If I replace them one at a time gradually, then each new part would become part of my body. And each part I lost would cease to be part of my body. But I would just continue to be whatever was my body at the time."

"Would you say the same thing about a wooden ship in which you replaced each part, one at a time, until there were no original parts left?"

"Yeah, probably."

"But suppose you replaced each wooden part with a piece of cardboard. After replacing all the parts, you've got a cardboard ship. There's no wooden ship. Are you telling me this cardboard ship is the exact same ship as the original wooden ship?"

"Look," Wynton said, "the whole idea of a self that endures through time and change is really just a construct. There is no essential self. There's just what we call Hermione or Greg or. . .what was your name?" he asked looking at Harry.

"Harry."

"Harry." He continued to address Hermione. "The fact that we have this causal continuity of physical parts in one body we call Harry or whoever, and Harry has these memories from his past, doesn't mean that Harry is essentially something distinct from his body. People are kind of like ocean waves. As a wave propagates through water, that wave is continuously being made up of different water molecules. So the parts of the wave are constantly being changed out, but it's still the same wave. A person is really just a wave that rides on top of an ever-changing material. If you want to say a person continues to exist through changes, that's how it happens. But that means the person is not separable from the material. You can't separate the wave from the water. So there can't be ghosts that exist apart from the physical body."

Hermione was finding the conversation tedious, but she didn't want to give up just yet. "We could probably talk about this some more. . ."

Wynton liked the sound of that.

". . .but I want to run a different argument by you and see what you'll say."

"Okay," Wynton agreed.

"If all we are is material stuff, and material stuff is just obeying the laws of physics and chemistry, then all of our behavior can be exhaustively explained in mechanical terms. That means it's possible for there to be a world exactly like ours, including all the conversations that go on and all the physiological stuff like crying during sad movies, but without anything mental happening at all."

"You're talking about philosophical zombies." Wynton leaned forward as if ready for a response.

"Wait," said Harry. "What kind of zombie?"

"A philosophical zombie," Wynton replied. "It's a thought experiment in philosophy."

"So we're not talking about real brain-eating zombies?"

"They're like brain-eating zombies in that neither is conscious. Neither has a mind. But whereas ordinary zombies are rotting corpses walking around eating brains, philosophical zombies look and act just like you and me."

"I'd sooner believe in philosophical zombies than brain-eating zombies," Harry said.

"Why?" Wynton asked.

"Because how is a zombie going to get inside your hard scull to eat your brain? You'd need tools to do that, and zombies are too stupid to use tools."

Wynton laughed.

"Anyway," Hermione said to Wynton, "you know about philosophical zombies. If everything that happens is just particles in motion interacting with each other, then there's really no place for the mental to do anything. Our behavior would be exactly the same even if there was nothing mental behind it."

"That would lead to solipsism," Wynton said, "because you couldn't know if anybody you were talking to was really conscious or was just a philosophical zombie."

"Yes," Hermione said with an unsure look about her. "I don't know if you're agreeing with me or if you're offering that as a rebuttal. "

"Would you agree with me that solipsism is absurd, or at least unlivable?"

"Sure."

"Then you've got to agree that the thought experiment is absurd, in which case it doesn't carry any weight in this argument." Wynton sat back again.

"You may be misunderstanding me. I agree that solipsism is absurd. The whole notion of philosophical zombies is absurd. But that's just the point. Materialism leads to the possibility of philosophical zombies. If materialism leads to an absurdity, then there's something wrong with materialism."

"Oh, I see what you're saying."

Hermione thought at last that maybe she had scored a point. She waited for Wynton's response.

"Philosophical zombies may be possible _for all we know_ ," Wynton said, "but I don't think you can use them to adjudicate between materialism and dualism without begging the question against materialism. Philosophical zombies may _not_ be possible _in actuality_. If the mind is caused to exist by the structure and activity of the brain, then you couldn't have that exact same structure and activity in a different world without having the exact same effect. If minds are the effects of brains in this world, then minds would exist in any possible world in which the exact same physical processes were taking place."

Hermione was a little frustrated at this point. "It doesn't matter whether the scenario is physically possible or not," she said. "Remember, it's just a thought experiment. It's not meant to show that everybody around you might be a philosophical zombie. Rather, it's meant to show that given materialism, the mind plays no roll in our behavior. At most, the mind is a by-product of physical processes. Our mouths may move, and our legs may carry us about, but it's not because we want to. It's not because we choose to move our body parts. The sense we have of choosing would just be an illusion created by our brains."

"I don't see how that follows," Wynton said. "It sounds like you're talking about epiphenomenalism. I don't think materialism leads to epiphenomenalism." Wynton found the conversation riveting, but he wondered how he might segue into something that might eventually lead to a date. As much as he disagreed with Hermione, her mind was just as much of a turn on as her looks.

Hermione noticed that Wynton had only stated his position but had not offered an argument to go along with it. Maybe he was tired of the conversation. She didn't want to press the argument further, and she didn't want to bring up any new arguments when it didn't seem to her that this one had been answered. Still, it bothered her that she couldn't convince him with philosophical arguments alone because she knew good and well there were ghosts. _If only Fred were here_ , she thought. _Fred would have some fun with Wynton_. Finally, she said, "What if I told you I had seen a ghost?"

Harry was taken aback by this move by Hermione. Was she about to enlist him to back her up? He hoped not.

Wynton cocked his head and responded, "I'd like to know how you knew it was a ghost you were seeing."

"How do you know that _anything_ you see is what you're seeing? If it looks like a ghost and goes 'Boo!' like a ghost, then it might as well be a ghost, right?"

"Do ghosts really go 'Boo!'?"

"I'm sure they can say 'Boo!' just as easily as you can."

"But they don't have mouths or voice boxes."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, they've left their physical bodies behind, haven't they?"

"Hmm. That's an interesting point."

"How can a ghost appear to you anyway? To appear, they have to be manifest in the physical world."

"I don't know how they do it; I just know they do. I have, in fact, seen ghosts and even conversed with them."

Harry and Greg both resisted the urge to plant their faces in their palms.

"I don't mean to be offensive," Wynton said, "and I don't deny that you saw _something_. I just don't think it was a ghost you were seeing. I don't believe in them." Wynton was trying not to be abrasive because he was developing a little crush on Hermione.

"Other people have seen them, too. People who were with me. We saw them at the same time."

_Un oh_ , Harry thought. _Here it comes_.

Wynton said, "I don't know what to make of that. But we were just arguing from pure reason about souls—something accessible to both of us. When that didn't work out, you resorted to personal experience—something accessible only to you. That isn't fair. How can I respond to a personal experience that I have no way of looking into?"

"You're perfectly within your rights in not believing me, but I know what I know. Maybe we are at an impasse."

"I think we are. Show me a ghost, and maybe I'll have something more to say about it. Until then, or until you can make a better philosophical case, I think I'll go with what my own sense of reason seems to indicate."

"Fair enough," Hermione said.

Harry was a bit embarrassed for Hermione but relieved that she didn't drag him into it.

Neither Wynton nor Hermione had touched a bite of their food. They were both engrossed in the conversation. Now that it appeared to be over, Wynton hoped to find an excuse to meet up with Hermione at another time, but bless his heart, he couldn't think of one, and like Ron for so many years, Wynton lacked the courage to ask Hermione out or to even get her phone number.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter XII

"Ding ding!" Charles shouted as he walked into the Pie Hole where Ned, the pie maker, worked his magic. Chuck bounced off her seat and ran to his arms. She had not seen her father in several years, though he had seen her fairly frequently.

"Dad, I wish you had given us a little warning. You know how Ned is."

"Yes," Charles replied, "Careful Ned. Paranoid Ned. Worried Ned. Well, I've lived in these bandages for years now, and guess what? Nobody cares. Ned is not in any danger."

They sat down in a booth, Chuck sitting across from her father. "Where is Ned?" Charles asked.

"He's back there," Chuck replied, gesturing toward the kitchen. "But where have you been? I had a wedding, Dad, and it would've meant the world to me if you had been there."

"I was there, honey."

"Why are you like that, dad? You didn't have to run off."

"Sweetie, I'm not going to be here long. Can we just skip the interrogation? I need to talk to Ned."

"You came home to talk to Ned?" Chuck was just a little indignant.

"Yes ma'am. It's important."

Chuck stared blankly at him for a moment, then went to the kitchen. Charles heard, "WHAT?" bellowing from behind the counter. Then Ned emerged—the one whose delicious pies were known throughout Papen county, the one who could bring dead things back to life. He emerged, and although no one had seen all the strange wonders that Ned had seen throughout his life, Ned marveled at the presence of Chuck's father. To Ned, Charles Charles was a loose canon, a ticking time bomb, his undoing. Ned did not intentionally keep Charles alive, but Chuck, in a desperate act of love, tricked Ned so that her father could stay alive. For many years, Charles had been unwilling to take the precautions Ned thought were necessary to keep the whole world, with their shovels, pitchforks, and torches, from knowing about his secret. It was a secret that Ned thought for sure would result in him being burned as a witch or flayed open and studied by government officials in white lab coats somewhere in Area 51 should it ever come out. Ned was quite understandably cautious and secretive.

"How ya doin', Ned?" Charles greeted him.

"Fine," Ned said. "Everything is fine."

"I'd hug you, but. . .well, you know."

Ned did know. After bringing things back to life, the slightest touch would re-dead them. That's why his mother died a second time when she kissed him. Once they were dead a second time, he could never bring them back.

"Sit down, Ned. I want to talk to you."

"Okay," and Ned sat down across from Charles. Chuck sat down beside Ned.

"I see you're still being careful not to sit too close together," Charles observed. "That's good. I worry about you two all the time. It must be hard, being married and all, not to ever touch."

Chuck almost explained how they got around intimate issues, but she stopped herself just in time. That was none of his business.

"Do you even have sex?" Charles asked.

"Dad!" Chuck scolded.

"Sorry, sorry," Charles chuckled. "That was inappropriate."

"Weird, too," Ned said. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Ned, you're not alone. That's what I'm here to tell you. You've labored your whole life to keep your secret—a secret even you don't understand—and you've thought you were alone. But you're not."

"What do you mean? There are others like me?" Ned puzzled.

"Sorta kinda."

"Sorta kinda?" Chuck interjected.

"There are people with abilities. They're not all like yours. In fact, I don't think any of them are exactly like yours. But there is a whole community of people out there who have all kinds of magical abilities. I've met them."

Ned furrowed his eyebrows, half in skepticism, and half in great curiosity.

"I've managed to befriend a few of them, and I want you to meet them."

"Out of the question," Ned said.

"Why not?"

"I don't know anything about these people. Why do you think they have magical abilities? Have you seen them do magic? My father was a magician. My two bothers are magicians. It's all illusions. Even if you did see something magical, how do you know you weren't duped?"

"I haven't actually seen any of them do magic."

"Oh my gosh!" Ned exclaimed. "So somebody told you they could do magic, and you come out of hiding to tell me there are people just like me? The world is full of illusionists. What on earth?"

"No, these people are not illusionists. I understand your skepticism, Ned."

"Do you?"

"Listen to me, Ned. First of all, you of all people ought to keep an open mind. Do you really think you are the only person who has ever lived who has had some supernatural gift?"

"It's a curse."

"Whatever. It's unlikely that you'd be the only one. These kids—there's four of them—didn't tell me anything. But I've been watching them and listening to them. They aren't trying to get attention. They don't go around talking about their abilities to try to get other people to believe them. Quite the opposite! They try to hide who and what they are. They talk quietly among themselves. And they are very specific about the kinds of magic they've seen and been involved in. I could tell you stories that would make your hair stand on end."

Ned listened while Charles went on to explain to Ned what he heard and how he confronted Harry and the rest with what he knew. When Charles got to the part about Harry's parents being killed and how Harry never knew his parents, but had to grow up in a home with an aunt and uncle who didn't love him, Ned felt a prick in his heart. Charles perceived that his words hit home with Ned, and he said,

"You can help him, Ned. You can give Harry a minute with his parents." Then he waited while Ned considered his words.

"What do you think?" Ned asked Chuck.

Chuck looked at her father. "Dad, what do they know about us?"

"All I told them," Charles explained, "was that I knew a guy who could raise the dead and that he raised me. I didn't tell them anything about who you were, but I'm not sure they believed me anyway. They said that even in the wizarding world, dead people don't come back to life."

"Ha!" Ned laughed at the irony.

"Ned," Chuck began, "what if you meet them in a neutral location?"

"Let me mull it over," Ned finally responded.

"In the meantime," Charles said, "could you bring me some chocolate cake?"

"We don't have cake," Chuck said. "We only have pie."

"Oh, that's right."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter XIII

"You guys have a great hotel," Ron said as he sprawled across the comfortable king sized bed. "Hermione, why do we live in dorms when we could be living like this? Even a magic tent would be better than our dorms."

"Oh, you know, the whole muggle American experience," Hermione cheerfully answered.

Then they all heard a sound. It was kind of a whoosh sound that whooshed over and over, getting louder and louder until they saw something blue emerging in the large hotel room. Before long, there was a big blue box in the middle of the hotel room that looked like a police box from the 1960's.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed.

"I know what this is!" Ginny began, but before she could explain, the door opened, and a man emerged wearing gray sweat pants and a black t-shirt with "FREE HUGS" written in bold white letters.

Hermione said, "Who are you popping into a private hotel room unannounced?" Hermione was not the least bit fazed by this unconventional means of travel. Nor was anyone else, having seen many unconventional means of travel in the wizarding world and not really knowing exhaustively what all means existed. Their concern, rather, was the unexpected intrusion.

"I'm the Doctor," came the reply.

"This is the Doctor!" Ginny echoed.

"Great," the Doctor said. "I don't need to introduce myself."

"What the. . ." Ron began before being interrupted by the Doctor.

"Nevermind. Everybody into the Tardis at once."

"Come on!" Ginny gestured, leaving everyone else a little befuddled. Ginny walked through the Tardis door behind the Doctor, turned around and said again, "Come on. We have to go."

"Why are you so eager to run off with this man?" Harry asked.

"Because I'm the Doctor," the Doctor explained.

"Doctor Who?" Hermione asked.

"Exactly!" Ginny shouted. "Now come on!"

"Why?" Harry pondered.

"Because he's the Doctor!" Ginny said indignantly.

"I'll explain everything, Harry," the Doctor attempted to reassure him. "Do you want a hug? We have time for a hug, but we mustn't tarry."

Harry just stared at the Doctor, then at Ginny, then at the Doctor again. "We can't go with you. We ordered a pizza."

"Canadian bacon and pineapple," the Doctor stated matter-of-factly. He went inside the Tardis and came back out with a pizza box, opened it, and displayed the Canadian bacon and pineapple pizza. "I told you it wouldn't take long."

"That was you on the phone?" Harry asked.

"Yup." The Doctor smiled.

"Well," said Harry shrugging, "I guess I'm open to a new adventure." He looked at Ron and Hermione. "Why not? Ginny clearly knows who this is." He shrugged again and headed for the Tardis.

"Wait," the Doctor said. "He pulled a gadget out of his pocket that began to buzz and light up. Handing the pizza to Harry, he walked toward the safe, waved it around, then opened the safe and pulled out a photo album.

"Hey, that's mine!" said Harry. "How did you open the safe?"

"This is a sonic screwdriver, silly boy," the Doctor explained. "We're going to need this."

Harry looked back at Ginny.

"Trust him, Harry," she admonished.

The Doctor assured everybody that he would explain everything on the way but that they must hurry. With a few looks around, they each walked into the Tardis, again, not surprised to find that it was bigger on the inside than on the outside. Once they were in, and the door closed, the Doctor began pulling levers and pushing buttons until the Tardis made the same whooshing sound, then settled down.

"So," said Hermione, "who are you, and how do you and Ginny know each other?"

"I've never met this woman in my life," the Doctor said. "But clearly she's heard of me."

"I have," Ginny said. "You're the Doctor. I've heard all about you, how you pop up at random times in history to save the world. Is that why you're here now?"

"Not exactly," he replied. "This time, you're going to save the world."

"Me?" Ginny asked.

"All of you. Or rather, you already have. In a sense. But anyway, to explain to everybody else, I'm a time lord. You are in a space ship slash time machine."

"Why does it look like a police box?" Ron asked.

"That's a disguise."

"It's not a very conspicuous one," Hermione observed.

"Granted," the Doctor conceded. "No doubt you'll all want to know why I've summoned you into the Tardis. I'm taking you to meet the pie maker."

Ron said, "The Doctor. The Pie Maker. Who else is in your gang, and why does nobody go by their real name?"

"The pie maker," continued the Doctor, "needs you, and you need him. Your friend, Charles, talked to him recently about you, but Ned. . ." he looked at Ron ". . .is reluctant to meet you. Ned has had a rough life. He's been neglected. And he has a rare gift. He doesn't trust easily. But we're going to force the issue."

"So you know Charles, too," Hermione observed.

"I do," said the Doctor. "Ned raised Charles from the dead. But Ned doesn't really believe in magic. He doesn't understand what he is, but you have to show him."

"Is he a wizard?" Ginny asked.

"Sorta kinda maybe not," the Doctor responded. "He was never invited to wizarding school, you see, so he was never trained as a wizard. But, like each of you, he has latent powers that emerge in an imperfect way the way yours did before you went to Hogwarts. As far as Ned knows, he's the only one in the world with magical powers."

"But you said he doesn't believe in magic," Ginny reminded the Doctor.

"Well, I mean, he knows he has some strange ability, but in general Ned is a very skeptical person." The Doctor pulled a lever and said, "We are here." He walked to the door, and the rest followed him. Upon opening the door, Ron smelled what must've been blueberry pie. Hermione smelled it, too. Then Harry and Ginny smelled it.

Ned stood with his apron covered in blue and a broken dish at his feet, mouth agape, staring at the Doctor emerging from the Tardis.

"I'm the Doctor," he said while shaking Ned's hand. "I know you didn't believe Charles when he told you about his wizard friends, so I thought you might appreciate the grand entrance. This is my Tardis. No, it's not magic. It's science. It's actually a time machine. I'm not a wizard, but my friends are. These are the wonderful young people Charles told you about."

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harry all walked out of the Tardis, looking around at the kitchen and taking in the delightful smells of delicious baked pies.

Just then, they all heard the jingle of the door in the dining area, and a high pitched voice cry out, "Ned! Chuck!"

"That's Olive," Ned said. "You can't be here."

But it was too late. Olive was in the kitchen. "Hi!" Olive cheerfully waved at the strangers, gave the Tardis a scrutinizing look, and said, "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt anything." Then she noticed the Doctor's shirt and instinctively gave him a hug, which the Doctor returned.

"Uh. . .it's okay," Ned said, not really knowing if it was okay. "Chuck isn't here."

"I was going to see if you wanted to have lunch with Emerson and me. We're going for Mexican."

"Um," Ned thought, "I don't think I can. Chuck should have her cell phone with her, though. I don't know where she is."

"Okay," Olive said, smiling. Then she looked at the Tardis again, and the strangers. Strange though the scene was, Olive figured there'd be some explanation for the police box that she'd hear about later. But not wanting to intrude, she gave a friendly wave and left.

"You haven't told her, have you?" said the Doctor to Ned.

"Told her what?"

"About you."

"What do you know about me?"

"A great deal," said the Doctor. "You're Ned, the guy who wakes pies and makes the dead."

" _Bakes_ pies and _wakes_ the dead, you mean," Hermione corrected him.

The Doctor merely smiled at his own joke.

"Did Charles tell you about me?" Ned asked. Ned was becoming increasingly uneasy by how many strangers knew his secret, and there was a festering resentment toward his father-in-law.

"He told me a little, but Ned I've been watching you since you were a little boy. It's a shame you've never told Olive about your little secret. She's been such a loyal friend to you for such a long time."

"Could you have saved my mother?"

"No.

"Very well, then," Ned resolved, "how can I help you?"

"Come with me in the Tardis," the Doctor said.

"I can't right now. I have pies in the oven."

"This is a time machine. I promise I'll get you back here in less than a minute."

Once again, they all loaded back into the Tardis, this time with Ned.

"Where are we going this time?" Harry asked as he raised a slice of pizza to his mouth.

"To the Horned Toad School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Vanderpool, Texas," the Doctor replied.

"What's a horned toad?" Ginny asked.

"It's a lizard," Ned answered. "So," Ned continued, "You are real witches, huh?"

"Yup," Hermione responded. "Would you like some pizza? Maybe I could fight Harry off while you grab a slice."

"Sure," Ned replied, "since I'm missing lunch to go on an adventure with you anyway."

"So," Ron said to Ned, "Are we really the only witches and wizards you've ever met?"

"The only ones I know of," Ned replied. "But I still haven't seen any of you do magic. The only thing magical I've seen so far has been this blue box appearing in my kitchen and being bigger on the inside than the outside."

"It's not magic," the Doctor reminded him. "It's science."

"Are you a wizard, too?" Ned asked him.

"No, I'm a time lord. An alien. I'm not even from your planet. But that is not to say that witches and wizards exist on your planet alone."

"You look pretty human to me," Ned said, and a poorly dressed one, too, but comfortable he supposed.

"We are here," said the Doctor. "Let's go." They followed the Doctor out of the Tardis and into a large foyer.

"Where are we?" Ned asked.

"We're at the Horned Toad," replied the Doctor.

"He speaks the truth," came a thundering voice. They all turned to see a rather tall man dressed in tan buckskin and covered in mostly blue beads, long black hair with a feather dangling by one ear. To Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione, he looked like the quintessential native American, and he was quite the imposing figure.

"I'm Dan," he said in his booming voice. "Headmaster of Horned Toad School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What brings you to the hill country?"

"This is Ned, the pie maker," said the Doctor. "I think it's time he knows the truth."

"Very well," Dan nodded. "Come."

Ned was a bit unnerved that everybody seemed to know who he was, but he only had a vague idea of who they were. The headmaster led them to the library, and they all sat around a study table.

"Ned," Dan began, "I don't know what the Doctor has told you yet, but let me first apologize. I know you've had a hard life. You've had this ability, and you don't know why, and you lost your parents."

Harry choked when he heard these words.

Dan continued. "You're a wizard, Ned."

"I'm a wizard?" Ned was astonished.

"Yup. And a thumpin' good one, too, I'd wager," Dan went on, "but we decided a long time ago that you should not be trained."

"Why not?" Ned asked.

"Because, Ned." Dan gathered his thoughts. "You have a very unusual ability. In fact, as far as I know, nobody has ever had your ability before. Most wizards are not that different from each other. We all exhibit latent abilities when we're young, but then we are taught how to hone them at schools like these. We use wands to channel our powers. We use potions and incantations and various other means to practice magic. It's a natural ability, but it still has to be learned, controlled, etc. Given the novelty of your abilities, we all agreed that it was not safe to train you. We didn't know what you were capable of. It's unprecedented. I know you've had a hard life, but we did what we thought was best."

"Who is we?" Ned asked. "Who gets to decide these things?"

"In this case it was myself and the United Magical Association. We also consulted with Dumbledor in the. . ."

"You knew Dumbledor?" Harry interrupted.

"Yes, very well," Dan answered. "Wise and brilliant he was. Powerful, too. He agreed that Ned should not be brought up in the wizarding world. It just wasn't safe. So we agreed to keep an eye on him." Dan looked at Ned but continued talking to Harry. "Ned grew up to be a decent man, and apart from a few mishaps, he has managed to use his abilities in a responsible manner. He's even done some good, solving murders and such."

"So why am I here now?" Ned asked.

Dan explained, "The Doctor here is very persuasive. He didn't think it was right that you not know who you are. He told me about how you brought your childhood sweetheart back from the dead. He said that even though you knew the rules, you let her live because you couldn't help yourself. He told me about your great love, how you got married, but that you could never touch her lest she die again." Dan looked down and shook his head. Then he raised his glassy eyes back up and said, "I lost my wife many years ago. So the Doctor thought that if you were trained, you could live a normal life. Normal for a wizard anyway. Perhaps you could bring strawberries back to life and still be able to eat your own pies without them rotting again in your mouth. Did you bring pie, by the way?"

"No," said Ned. "And they're still in the oven right now, most likely burning."

Dan glared at the Doctor and mumbled, "You know how I feel about pecan pie." Then, looking back at Ned, he said, "Perhaps, if you learned to channel and control your powers, you could touch your wife without her dying again."

At that, Ned's eyes grew large. "Is that possible?" Ned asked.

"We don't know," said George. "Anyway, this will have to be done in secret. The Doctor has assured me that these four can train you. I can't train you in this school. Besides you being too old, and this school being for children, which would be weird, not everybody will see eye to eye with me about you being trained. But I trust the Doctor, and the Doctor trusts these friends of his."

"We just met, actually!" Ron offered.

Dan shrugged that off. He leaned forward and spoke to Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Harry. "Listen to me," he said. "Get Ned a wand and teach him, but you must be careful. We don't know what Ned is capable of. We don't know anything about the ability to wake the dead. It's an unnatural ability."

Ned said, "Everything magical is unnatural."

"That's where you're wrong," the Doctor said. "Magic is every bit as natural as. . .time travel."

Ned rolled his eyes, thinking time travel wasn't that natural either.

"You four go to Brown University, don't you?" Dan asked.

"Just Ron and me," Hermione said, gesturing to Ron.

"Well," Dan said, "I know you're busy, and you can't possibly give Ned the education he would've gotten here, but work with him to hone his abilities. Start with fruit or insects or something, and see what you can do." Dan turned to Ned. "We will watch your career with great interest."

 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter XIV

Harry and Ginny returned to England. Ron and Hermione returned to Brown. Ned returned to the Pie Hole exactly one minute and thirty-two seconds after leaving, which he noticed was a little later than the Doctor promised. Nobody knew where the Doctor went after dropping Ned off.

"Ginny," Harry said, "I think we should bring Ned to England."

"Sure," Ginny said, holding Harry's hand as they strolled along a street of cobblestone.

"I would trust Olivander better than some American to make sure Ned gets the right wand. Nobody knows wands better than Olivander. And while he's here, we could show him around."

"Do you think he'd come?" Ginny asked.

"We can ask. Let's call him."

"Okay."

Harry reached for his iPhone and called Ned.

"Hello?"

"Hi Ned. This is Harry."

"Hey, I haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, Ginny and I are back in England. Actually, that's why we called. How would you like to come for a short visit?"

"Actually, I'm only free for a couple of days this weekend. I don't know if I can justify the time and expense to fly there and back again."

"Not a problem. There's an international port key. It'll only take you a few seconds to get here from there."

"I guess a port key is some wizard way of traveling?"

"Yeah, something like that. Hermione and Ron can probably show you. Why don't you give them a call? I'll let them know. Is this weekend good for you?"

"Yeah!"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter XV

"I asked for a la mode," said Emerson.

"Oh sorry!" Chuck said. "I'll be right back." Chuck returned to the kitchen of the Pie Hole with Emerson's rhubarb pie.

"You are certainly being mysterious," Olive said to Ned. "What's the big secret?"

"Let's wait for Chuck to get back."

"Emerson," Olive said, "do you know what this is about?"

"I have a pretty good idea," Emerson replied.

"I'm back!" Chuck announced with Emerson's pie and ice cream held high above her head. She set it down in front of him and sat down across from him.

"So, Ned," said Olive, "What's the big poop?"

"Scoop?" Emerson corrected.

"Whatever," Olive said.

Ned looked at Olive for a moment, then said, "Olive, you've been one of the best friends I've ever had."

"Aww," she said.

"You all have been," said Ned, "which is why I wanted you all to be here."

Chuck smiled at Olive, and Olive smiled back at her.

"I've had a big secret my whole life," Ned said to Olive. "You've caught on to it over the years, but you've been kind enough not to pry. Well, I've been wrong. I've been keeping this secret out of fear. I didn't voluntarily tell Emerson and Chuck. They both found out, and they are both sworn to secrecy. So please don't think I've kept you in the dark because I trusted you any less than them."

"I understand," Olive said. "Well, I should say I didn't understand, and it has stung over the years. You're right that I knew there was something big you weren't telling me."

"Yes," Ned said, "and it explains why you never see Chuck and me touching."

"Oh!" Until now, Olive assumed Ned had intimacy issues. "Well, this is quite the build up, Ned. I can see it's a big deal to you, but why don't you just blurt it out?"

"You might freak out," Ned said. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you won't believe me at first."

"What is it, Ned?"

"Okay, well. . ." Ned searched his mind for the right words. "Well, you see, Chuck didn't fake her death. She really did die."

"This is starting to sound more like Chuck's secret."

"It's both our secret, I guess. But it was mine before it was hers."

"Go on."

"Chuck was strangled to death and thrown overboard. I found her at the funeral home. I have the ability to touch dead things and make them come to life again."

"So you're saying you raised Chuck from the dead?"

"Yes."

"Are you Jesus?" Olive didn't act like there was anything unusual about the conversation.

"No, it's not like that."

"Come on, Ned, what the hell?"

"Show her," Chuck said as she placed a rotten blackened strawberry on the table.

"What's this?" Olive asked.

"What does it look like?" Ned asked.

"It looks like a rotten strawberry."

Ned picked the strawberry up in his hand and closed his fist around it. Then he turned his hand and opened it up, showing Olive the bright red healthy strawberry.

Olive jumped up on her seat and stood with her hand over her mouth. They all watched Olive, wondering what she would say.

"That's why you always have rotten fruit in the kitchen!"

"Yes," Ned admitted.

The light came on for Olive. "Can you do to people what you just did to this fruit? Is that why Chuck is alive?"

"Yes."

"But why can't you touch her? Will she die again if you touch her?"

"Wow," said Emerson, "you figured that out on your own. Not even Ned knew that in the beginning."

"Oh my gosh!" Olive said. "This can't be happening."

Ned said, "This is how Emerson and I have been solving all these murders. He takes me to the victim, I wake them up, we ask who killed them, and I re-dead them."

"But why don't you let them live?" Olive asked. "Why not return them to their families?"

"Well, first of all," Ned said, "I've always been afraid that if anybody knew what I could do, they'd treat me like a witch and burn me at the stake or something worse. But besides that, there's a catch. If I don't touch somebody and re-dead them within sixty seconds, then something else will die."

"Oh," Olive said. "You didn't re-dead Chuck. Did somebody else die?"

"Yes," Chuck said. "The guy at the funeral home died."

"So," Olive thought out loud, "if you've been making fresh pies from rotten fruit all these years, what has been dying in their places?"

"The flowers," Ned said. "Haven't you noticed?"

"Why," asked Olive, "couldn't you just bring Chuck back to life again if you accidentally touched her?"

"Oh that's another thing," Ned explained. "Once I've re-dead somebody, I can't bring them back a second time. They're dead forever."

"Ned!" Olive exclaimed. "Look how close you're sitting to Chuck! If I had any idea why you never touched her I'd be shocked at how physically close you are to each other all the time."

"We have precautions in place," Chuck said, "and we're very careful."

"Not careful enough!" Olive insisted. "Oh, that breaks my heart." Olive sat back down. "I can't believe this is happening. Get another fruit. I want to see it again."

Ned OK'ed it, and Chuck went to get a rotten peach. Ned touched the peach, and they all watched it spring to life. Then Ned touched it again, and it withered to its former rotten state. Olive was amazed.

"I can understand why you kept this a secret," Olive said. "But Ned, if you had told me this a long time ago, I would've taken it to my grave. You can trust me, Ned."

"I know I can, Olive. And I was wrong not to let you in on this sooner."

"What made you decide to tell me now?"

"Up until now I've always thought I was completely alone in this. Emerson found out on accident, and Chuck found out when I woke her up. But I've never voluntarily told anybody until just now. However, I found out a couple of weeks ago that I'm not alone. There are more like me. There's a whole society of people like me, and they keep their society secret as well. It all got me to thinking about secrecy and friendship and family. If these people, who I barely know, are aware of what I can do, then you should be, too. You are closer to me than people I'm actually related to. You are my family, and I shouldn't have kept you in the dark all this time."

Olive pushed Emerson out of the booth and walked around the table. Chuck got up, and Olive slid in to hug Ned. Then she got up and hugged Chuck, tears in her eyes.

"I love you guys so much," she said. "I don't hold it against you for keeping this secret from me. This is a big fantastic secret. But I'm heartbroken that you two love each other—are married even—and can never touch."

Chuck sighed.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter XVI

"Ron," said Hermione, "how are we going to teach Ned how to hone his resurrection power?"

Ron had just taken a bite of his grilled chicken sandwich from Chick Fil A and wanted to have it good and swallowed before responding. "I imagine it works just like any other thing."

"But the problem is, we already have certain words we say when we cast a spell or a charm."

"That's true," said Ron.

"But there's no word for raising people from the dead."

"Somebody had to come up with these words, though, didn't they? How did anybody ever know that _wingardium leviosa_ would cause things to float?"

"Trial and error, I guess. It's _leviOsa_ , by the way, not _levioSA_."

"I mean it's not _entirely_ random. Almost all of our spells are Latin words and phrases that have something to do with what we're trying to accomplish."

"That's weird," Hermione observed. "I mean is Latin a magical language or something?"

"It couldn't be. There were witches and wizards before there was Latin."

"Besides that, there was a time when Latin was a normal functioning language. Surely there weren't witches and wizards living in Rome who couldn't speak their native tongue without spells flying all around them all the time."

Ron chuckled. "That's a good point. I don't know why Latin works."

"It seems like it would be dangerous to just start trying random Latin words to see what will happen. If we had a better understanding of the theory behind it, maybe we could come up with the right words to say for a resurrection spell."

"Ned doesn't need a resurrection spell. He can just touch things."

"Sure," Hermione agreed. "I mean Harry made his aunt float through the air without using a spell or a wand, too, but the wand focuses our power. The whole point of teaching Ned is that maybe he could overcome his limitations. If he could learn the proper spell that he could cast with a proper wand, then his power would be focused in a different way, and maybe things could stay alive for longer than sixty seconds. Maybe he could touch his wife without her dying."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter XVII

"How was the trip?" Harry asked, knowing all too well what it felt like to travel by port key for the first time.

"Ugh," Ned said. It was trippy, but I'm not feeling so well. Give me a minute.

"We have one more trip to make. Ginny is meeting us in Diagon Alley. But don't worry. We can take a bus."

They took a night bus to Diagon Alley where they met Ginny in front of Olivander's. Ned didn't think the ride on the night bus was any better for his stomach than the port key had been.

"This is fascinating," Ned said. "The architecture is really peculiar, but I like it."

"Let's go inside and meet Mr. Olivander," Ginny said. "This is where we buy our wands."

As soon as they went inside Mr. Olivander shouted, "Mr. Potter! The boy who lived! How is that wand holding up?"

"It's holding up great, sir," Harry responded. "I want you to meet somebody. This is Ned the pie maker."

"Hi, I'm Ned." He held out his hand.

"Ah, an American!" said Mr. Olivander. "Always happy to see an American."

"Ned is here to buy his first wand," Ginny said.

"His _first_ wand?" inquired Olivander. "My, how old are you, son?"

"He wasn't exactly brought up in a wizarding family," Harry explained. "He's from America."

"Barbarians," Olivander scoffed.

"It's not like that," Ginny said.

"Well, never mind all that," said Mr. Olivander. "Let's see what we can do." He studied the face of Ned for a moment, squinting his eyes, then said, "Uh huh. Let me see what we have." Olivander searched his shelves and pulled out a box that looked just like every other box. "Try this one," he said while opening the box and retrieving the wand. The wand was yellow with a couple of crooks in it. "It came all the way from America. That's Osage Orange wood. Some call it bois d'arc or horseapple or any number of things. Very durable and resistant to rot. It has a phoenix right wing feather core. The Osage will turn a dark honey colour over time." He handed it to Ned.

Ned took the wand in his hand, and a gush of wind blew through his hair, which seemed to glow for a moment.

"What do you know!" gloated Olivander. "Got it on the first try!"

"The wand chooses the wizard," Harry explained.

"That's right," Olivander agreed.

Ned had no idea what to do with the wand, but he felt empowered all the same.

Harry and Ginny spend the next couple of days showing Ned around London and introducing them to people they knew, including the Weasleys. Then they sent him back to America.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter XVIII

It was 2:00 pm on Wednesday, which meant office hours for Dr. Wood, Hermione's philosophy teacher.

"Hello Hermione!" Dr. Wood said as she opened the door. "Come in."

Hermione came in and sat in the chair across the desk from Dr. Wood. She said, "I wanted to talk to you about something having to do with language."

"Oh, my favourite subject!"

"It also has to do with magic."

"Not my favourite subject."

"Well, this is all hypothetical anyway. I know you don't believe in the supernatural."

"Aristotle said that it is the mark of an educated man to be able to entertain an idea without embracing it. What do you have?"

"Well, let's say, hypothetically, that there was such a thing as magic."

"Okay." The professor listened.

"In a world where there is magic, people conjure magic by the use of magic words."

"Like abra kadabra."

"That's right," Hermione said.

"Okay," said the professor. "Go on."

"So I'm just wondering how that might work. I mean how can words have magical powers? How is it that one word can cause one effect while a different word or phrase causes a different effect? Is it the meaning of the words that matter, or is it the intention of the person speaking?"

"If you're going to raise a hypothetical like that, then it can work however you want it to work. You can set up whatever stipulation you'd like. But words can't have magical power in real life."

"Why not?" asked Hermione.

"Well, think about what a word is. A word is a token used to represent something else. For example, when I write the word, 'car,' the word itself is not a car. It only signifies a car. The car itself is out in the parking lot."

"Uh huh."

"The fact that we call the thing in the parking lot a 'car' is just a convention. In another language we might call it something else. Even in our own language, we have different words for it. We might call the same thing an 'automobile.' So both words represent the same reality. Do you follow me so far?"

"I think so," Hermione said. "But how is it that the word, 'car,' comes to actually correspond to the thing in the parking lot? Is there something about the word itself?"

"Remember," the professor replied, "that words in any language are just conventions. When spoken, the word, 'car,' is just a sound. It is only by convention that we agree to associate that sound with the object in the parking lot. We could've just as well used that sound to refer to something different or used a different sound to refer to the object in the parking lot."

"So you're saying that words have no meaning in and of themselves. They only have meaning insofar as we agree to associate them with a meaning."

"That's right. And statements are the same way. We string a bunch of words together in such a way that the statement has a meaning. The statement, 'The car is in the parking lot,' has a meaning that depends on the meanings we pour into the individual words as well as the meaning we attribute to particular grammatical constructs. In this case, the statement is about the car, and it says something about the car—that it is in the parking lot. If the statement corresponds to how things really are in the parking lot, then we say the statement is true."

"I think I am following you so far," said Hermione, "but how does this all relate to the idea of magic words?"

"Okay," the professor said, "with those observations in mind, here are some questions to consider, and consider these under the assumption that words can have power in and of themselves. Would it matter whether the word is spoken, written, or communicated in sign language?"

"Um. . ."

"Hold on. These are just rhetorical questions. What if the word is mispronounced or misspelled? What if you mistakenly use the wrong word? Is it the intention that matters or the actual word? What if somebody repeats something he memorized from a different language without even knowing what the words mean? What if somebody intentionally spouts random sounds from their mouth and by accident says something that is meaningful in some language that hasn't even been invented yet? What if somebody makes a statement that is so ambiguous, that it could mean any of three different things? Which meaning carries the power? What about a pun in which a statement can actually mean two different things at once? What if a speech is recorded, then the recording is played over a speaker? Does it have the same power coming out of the machine as it did coming out of the mouth of the person who uttered it?"

"I think these are all legitimate and interesting questions," Hermione said, "but I don't see how they show that magical words are impossible."

"It's meant to show the absurdity of the notion that words could have power. There is no answer to these questions because words can't have power."

"You're going to have to explain that more."

"If you really think about what a word is and what sentences are, you'll see that words cannot really have supernatural power. A written word is only a string of characters made with ink on a surface. It only has meaning insofar as everybody agrees to associate the string of characters with something in reality. A spoken word is nothing but a sound one makes with their mouth and their vocal chords. It only has meaning insofar as everybody agrees to associate that sound with some particular meaning. So words can't literally have supernatural power. Words are just conventions used to convey ideas between persons who agree by convention to what the words refer to. Remove the agreement, and the words are just meaningless sounds. Wouldn't it be a coincidence if those words had magical powers before anybody ever discovered them? But that's absurd."

"Well," said Hermione, "I think you make some good points. But maybe magic words aren't magic in and of themselves. Maybe they are more like focusing tools, kind of like how a hypnotist uses a watch to hypnotize people. There's no power in the watch itself to put people out; it's just a tool. Maybe in the case of magic words, it's a way to help the sorcerer focus his power. The power actually comes from the intention of the sorcerer, but is conveyed through the words."

"If that were the case," Dr. Wood responded, "then we'd probably be in agreement that there can't be such a thing as magical words. If there's magic at all, it doesn't come from words. It would have to come from some other source."

"This has been really interesting," Hermione said.

"Hasn't it, though! You know, Hermione, you're one of the best students I have. You're a brilliant young philosopher."

"Stop it."

"No, I mean it. Most students have a hard time just grasping the basic concepts in philosophy. You not only grasp them, but you have the intellectual tools to build on them, expand on them, and even to make legitimate criticisms. I hope you don't stop with a graduate degree. I hope you keep going. It'll be interesting to see what you come up with."

"Thanks. I need to get going, so thanks again."

"You're welcome. Come by any time. During office hours, that is."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter XIX

The following weekend, Harry and Ginny went back to America to meet up with Ron and Hermione. Then they all went to visit Ned in Coeur de Coeur at the home of Vivian and Lily Charles—two synchronized swimmers who raised Chuck since her Father died when she was a young girl.

"I think I've got it figured out," Hermione said.

"What's that?" asked Chuck.

"How to invent a spell for Ned to raise the dead."

Everybody, Lily and Vivian included, were listening to Hermione.

"It's not the words that matter. It's the feeling and intention behind the words. The reason we don't use English words is because we already know what those words mean. If we used English, we'd just be talking in a conversational way, and that would remove the magic from it. Latin is a dead language. Using Latin gives us a basis for saying something meaningful, but since it's essentially foreign to most of us, the concentration isn't on the literal meaning of the word. The word is just a point of focus. We are, in a sense, speaking mysteries to a power that emanates from us. It's the feeling and intention that matters. That's why it's possible for a witch or wizard to accomplish the same magic without using a word at all and why a muggle can't produce magic even if using the correct words. It's just that using the word helps. It makes it more certain, more powerful, more focused."

"So you're saying we should use a Latin word?" asked Ned.

"It doesn't necessarily have to be Latin. It can be Greek. I was thinking we could use the word, _anastasis_. Never mind what it literally means. The point is, we can try this word to bring something dead back to life."

"What should we use?" Ginny asked.

"I suggest a piece of fruit," Chuck said. "It's safe, and if anything goes haywire, probably nothing will get hurt except maybe another plant."

"Well, do it somewhere else, then," said Aunt Lily.

Everybody but the aunts went to a park nearby. There were plenty of dead leaves in the park, which Ned thought was just perfect. He had touched dead leaves before and made them turn green again.

Harry picked up a leaf and put it on a picnic table. "Hermione," he said, "I think you should try it first. You always seem to catch on to things faster than everybody else, so I think there's less of a chance of something bad happening if you do it."

"Okay," she said. Hermione stood in front of the leaf, looking at it with determination. She lifted her wand toward it and said, " _Anastasis_!" A thin blue spark flew from her wand, but nothing happened to the leaf. She breathed deeply.

"Try again," Harry said.

" _Anastasis_!" she shouted. Still nothing happened except the small blue spark.

"It may not work with any of us," Ginny said. "If Ned is the only one with the ability to bring dead things back to life, he may be the only one to make the spell work. I think we're going to have to risk it."

"Okay," Hermione said. "The rest of you get out your wands. Just in case something goes wrong, we should be ready to deal with it."

Everybody got out their wands, including Ned.

"Ned," Hermione said, "you heard how I pronounced the word, right?"

"Right."

"Go ahead then. Just point the wand at the leaf, concentrate on the leaf, think of the leaf coming to life. Think of how it used to be alive in the tree. Think about your ability to bring dead things to life. Concentrate on those thoughts, and say the word."

Ned stood in front of the leaf. He raised his wand toward it. Then he lowered the wand and said, "This seems silly."

"Just try it, mate," Ron said. "And don't worry. We've got your back."

Once again, Ned pointed the wand at the leaf and concentrated. After a couple of seconds he said, " _Anastasis_!" A blue spark—almost a straight line—flew from his wand and struck the leaf. The leaf instantly became green in the middle, and the green quickly spread over the whole leaf.

"It worked!" Hermione said.

Everybody was encouraged.

Ginny said, "I wonder. . .let's wait a couple of minutes and see if anything near us dies."

"It's not going to kill us, is it?" Ron said.

"It shouldn't," said Ned. "It's an equivalent life for an equivalent life. So if it's a human, then it'll be another human. If it's a plant, then it'll be another plant. It doesn't have to be the same species, though. We once killed a whole bunch of roaches by making some bees come to life."

A couple of minutes went by, and nobody noticed that anything else had died.

"There's too much plant life out here to be sure," Ned said. "Something else could've died without us knowing. What we need to do is get a couple of bugs, and put them in separate jars. We'll kill one bug, then bring it back to life and see if the other one stays alive."

"In the meantime," Harry said, "We can experiment with this leaf some more. Ned, why don't you touch it and see if it dies again."

Ned touched the leaf, but it stayed green.

"That's incredible!" he said. "Already, I can eat my own pies that I made with previously dead rotten fruit."

"How about this," Ron said. "Touch a dead leaf with your finger. Then re-dead it. Then see if you can bring it back with the _anastasis_ spell. You said before that once you re-dead something, you can't bring it back to life a second time. See if you can do it with the wand."

"That's a good idea," Hermione agreed.

So Harry put another dead leaf on the table. Ned touched the leaf, and it turned green. He waited a few seconds to make sure everybody saw that it was green. Then he touched it again. It turned brown again.

"Go ahead and touch it again," said Ron.

Ned touched it again, and nothing happened. It stayed brown. "Okay," he said. "I'm going to try the spell." Ned took a step back, raised his wand, and said, " _Anastasis_!" The leaf turned green once again. "I wonder what would happen," he said, "if I used the wand to re-dead it. Is there a spell for making something die?"

"There is," Harry said, "but it's a forbidden spell. It was used on me twice. See this scar?" Harry pulled back his bangs to reveal the lightening shaped scar on his forehead. "There was a wizard who went bad a long time ago. He's the one who killed my parents. He tried to kill me, too, but it backfired on him because my mother had put a protective spell on me. But it left this scar. My mother's magic is the only thing that saved me."

"I'm sorry about your parents, Harry. I'm actually a little surprised you didn't ask me to wake them up for you while I was in England."

Harry was quiet at first. Then he said, "Of course I thought about it. I chickened out, I think. I'd have one minute to talk to them. It seemed like a lot of pressure. I would have so many things to say to them, and probably they to me."

Chuck said to Harry, "When Ned agreed to wake my dad, I had to think about that same thing. But I eventually wanted to do it. Somebody else ended up dying that night because my emotions got the best of me. But my dad is alive, and I can't say that I regret it. Still, you need to give some serious thought to whether you'd have the will power to let Ned re-dead them within a minute or else risk somebody else dying in their places."

"I'm willing to do it," Ned said, "But I can't have another accident like Chuck's father. The whole reason Chuck's father died in the first place is because I let my mom live. Of course I didn't know the rules at the time, but Chuck spent her whole childhood without her father because of my mishap. And I didn't even get to keep my mother anyway because she kissed me that same night and died a second time forever."

"You know," Ginny said, "I don't mean to be insensitive, but I'm starting to understand why the powers that be didn't want you to be educated in a wizarding school, Ned. The ability to raise the dead could cause all kinds of problems. If word got out that you could do this, everybody would want you to raise their dead relative. What would the world be like if that happened? If you left anybody out, you'd be villainized for being unfair. Isn't it the natural course that people live their lives, then die to make room for the next generation?"

Ron said, "I see where you are coming from, Ginny, but what about people who die young because of an accident or some disease? Shouldn't those people get a second chance?"

"Perhaps," Ginny half way conceded, "but you can't save everybody, and it would be a topsy turvy world for Ned to try or to be expected to try. Thousands of people starve to death every day somewhere in the world. What would Ned's life be like if he were responsible for all of their deaths just because he has the power to reverse them?"

"Ginny makes good points," Chuck chimed in, "but it doesn't have to be that way. Ned has been responsible his whole life with his gift. If he were able to right a few wrongs in his own life and maybe in somebody else's, then why not? Why can't Harry have his parents back? I got my dad back, and he was dead about as long as Harry's parents have been dead. My dad is doing alright. He's glad to be alive."

"Thank you, honey," Charles said.

Everybody jumped at the sound of Charles' voice because a minute ago, he wasn't there.

"Crickey, mate, why do you do that?" Ron asked.

"Sorry," Charles said, "I'm a sneaky guy. I see you've met my son-in-law. I want to explain to you all why it was so important to me that you meet and why I got the Doctor involved. Ever since Ned woke me from the dead and told me all about how Chuck had died, too, I have been worried sick about my daughter. You two," pointing at Ned and Chuck, "are reckless. You seem cavalier about how the slightest slip on a banana peal or accidental bump could result in Chuck dying again forever. Then, not only will you be without her, Ned, but so will I. And I don't regret being alive either. I missed twenty years of my daughter's life, but I don't intend to miss the next twenty. If there is any possibility on God's green earth that Ned can make it to where she is safe, then I will do everything in my power to make that happen. Not to get personal, but I'm sure you two would also like to have a good healthy sex life, am I right?"

"Dad!"

"Harry, I was dead for twenty years. You're about nineteen, so your parents have probably been dead for almost as long. Why not let it be their choice? Why not let Ned wake them, hang out as long as they'd like, explain the situation to them, and Ned can re-dead them if that's what they want? I didn't get a choice, but if I had a choice, and I knew nobody else had to die in my place, I would choose life because I love my daughter. Besides that, I love life. You and your friends are doing something magnificent for Ned and for my family. Let Ned do something for you and for your family." He continued to Ned, "Ned, you don't have to be the world's hero. Heck, you can throw your wand away once you've fixed your problems with Chuck and helped Harry out. It's up to you. You're a grown man. You're mature. You're wise. You've done a remarkable job of keeping your secret in check all these years, not turning the world upside down. I, for one, trust you with this power. I don't trust anybody else with it, to be honest."

"That means a lot," Ned said.

"You know," Hermione interjected, "Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, and although it caused a stir, it didn't result in the mob trying to get Jesus to raise everybody who died in everybody's family in Galilee."

"Bad analogy, Hermione," said Harry. "They crucified Jesus."

"I'm with Harry on this one," said Ned. "I plan to use this ability extremely sparingly as I always have, and extremely secretively. If I can fix my problem with touching Chuck and maybe raise Harry's parent's, too, then my next project will make it to where things don't automatically come back to life when I accidentally touch them. If I can accomplish that, I'd be content to never use my gift again."

"You don't know that, Ned," said Charles. "Something could happen to somebody you love, and you'll whip out the wand once again. Love makes you do stupid stuff, am I right?"

"I'll keep the wand." Ned smiled.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter XX

They all went back to Lily and Vivian's house for an early dinner.

"How did it go today?" Vivian asked.

"It went great," Chuck answered. "Ned was able to bring a leaf back to life and keep it alive even after he touched it."

"So can he make it to where you're permanently alive, even if he touches you?" Lily asked.

"We're not sure yet. He touched a dead leaf, then re-deaded it. Afterwards, he was able to make it alive again with his wand. Maybe he could re-dead me, then raise me back up with his wand. But before we risk it, we have to do some more experimenting. I don't want Ned to re-dead me without being a hundred percent sure he can bring me back. We're going to experiment with bugs next."

After dinner, everybody went in the front yard and tried to catch grasshoppers. Before long, they had caught a few and put them in jars.

"How are we going to kill them?" asked Ginny.

"We could use some bug spray," Hermione answered.

"That's a good idea," said Chuck. "I'll get some." She went inside and came back out with a can of bug spray.

"Okay," said Ned, "We need to put one grasshopper in a jar by itself and another grasshopper in a jar by itself."

"Let's do this in the back," Chuck said, "so nobody sees what we're doing."

When they got to the back yard, Harry put two jars on the table, and they all sat down. Ned sat in front of the two jars, each with a grasshopper in it. Chuck stood up, opened one of the jars, and sprayed some bug spray in it. As the grasshopper struggled for life, the rest of them looked on with pity.

"It's just a grasshopper," Ginny said.

Eventually, the grasshopper stopped moving, and they all figured it must be good and dead.

"Okay, here I go," said Ned. He pointed his wand. " _Anastasis_!" The grasshopper sprang back to life.

Hermione said, "Now let's see if the other grasshopper dies."

They waited probably five minutes, but the other grasshopper didn't die.

"Did it work?" Ron asked.

Ned responded, "It's almost always the closest thing that has to die, but that's not always the case. Did any of the other grasshoppers die?"

Everybody checked their jars, but there appeared to be no dead grasshoppers.

"What now?" Ned asked.

"Should we try on larger animals?" Ginny asked nobody in particular.

"We'd have to kill one, wouldn't we?" Harry said.

"I have an idea," Chuck suggested. "We could go to my dad's grave. Emerson and I buried Dwight Dixon there. We could experiment on him. If we have to, we can shoot him again."

"That's dark," Ned said.

"I'll get the shotgun," said Lily.

"No," Vivian said, remorsefully. "It would be too loud. We need a gun with a silencer on it so we don't draw attention to ourselves." Vivian had once dated Dwight before she knew he attempted to murder Chuck. It was a sad thought to her. Dwight once made her feel alive, but she was duped, heart broken, and humiliated. Still, she wanted to help. And, conveniently enough, she had a pistol with a silencer. This news both shocked and delighted Lily.

"When did you get that?" Lily asked her sister.

"I got it when we were performing in San Antonio last year."

"What is it with you Americans and your guns?" Ron asked, but Lily and Vivian ignored him.

Lily shrugged. "Do you think you can do it?" she asked Vivian, wanting very much to be the person to shoot Dwight Dixon. She felt almost robbed when Chuck told her about his death. But it was Vivian's gun.

"Yes," Vivian said.

"Let's do it," Ned said.

Before heading to the cemetery, they all went back inside and had some of Ned's delicious apple pie.

"We're going to have to take two cars," Chuck said.

Ned responded, "You and I can take my car, and we can take Harry and Ginny. Lily, could Ron and Hermione ride with you and Vivian?"

"We'd be delighted," said Vivian.

And they all headed to the cemetery.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter XXI

"So what's the plan?" Ned asked Hermione.

"I didn't think about it," she replied, "but we're probably going to have to dig him up. I don't suppose anybody brought a shovel?"

"I always keep a shovel in my trunk," Lily said, "in case I need to get rid of a dead body. You just never know."

"I'll get it," Chuck said as she trotted to the car.

Ron giggled.

"Great," said Hermione. "Let's do it."

There were actually two shovels, which made the work go by quicker. They took turns as each of them tired out. By the time they reached the coffin, it was beginning to get dark.

"Vivian," we need you over here," Hermione said. "Get ready with the gun. Is it loaded?"

Vivian choked. Suddenly she wasn't sure she wanted to shoot Dwight after all. "Um. . ." She hesitated it.

"Let me see it," Lily said. Vivian slid the cartridge out, opened the chamber, and handed the gun to Lily with the cartridge. Lily checked the chamber, saw that the cartridge was full, and slid it back in. She looked back at Vivian, feeling protective of her sister. "I'll take care of it. Why don't you stand back a little?" Vivian obliged.

"Let's open it," said Hermione.

"He might be a bit dewy," Ned warned everybody. He and Harry both struggled to get the coffin open. When they did, Harry nearly barfed from the stench. Ned jumped out of the hole, but Harry struggled.

"Harry," Hermione said in exasperation, "you really need to lose weight." Ginny didn't like that. She loved her fat Harry. She and Ned assisted Harry in getting out of the hole.

"This is so creepy!" Ron complained. "I mean you're about to raise this guy from the dead. Look at him, half rotted. Is he going to look like that when you wake him, or will he be like the fruit and return to being a normal healthy looking person?"

"Usually, they look the same when I wake them," Ned explained, "but. . ."

"But who knows," Hermione interrupted him, "since he'll be using the wand for the first time."

"Is everybody ready?" Ned asked. There was an uneasy murmur of approval. "Lily, are you ready with the gun?"

Lily cocked the gun. "I'm ready," she replied.

"Remember, you have to shoot him before a minute is up to make sure nobody else has to die. And he has to actually die within the minute. So shoot him in the head."

"Got it," said Lily.

"Okay, here we go," Ned said.

Hermione coached him once more. "Remember, Ned, to concentrate and to say the word, ' _anastasis_ ' very clearly."

Ned pointed his wand at Dwight and held it there for a few seconds while everybody watched with anticipation. Then he said, " _Anastasis_!" Several thin blue sparks flew from his wand, one hitting Dwight, but most hitting the earth around his coffin.

Dwight's eyes opened, or what was left of them. It didn't seem to Ned that Dwight would be able to see. Chuck stepped closer to take a peak and was positively freaked out by the dead look in his eyes.

"Did it work?" asked Ron nervously.

"His eyes are open," said Ned, "but he's not moving." Then he said, "Hey, buddy, can you hear me?"

"Hello!" Chuck followed up. "Wakey, wakey!" She smiled up at Ned, amused with her own silliness, and Ned smiled back at her, totally smitten.

Then Dwight began to stir. He sat up in his coffin and began to claw his way out. They all heard him moan something they couldn't understand.

"What did he say?" asked Ginny, but nobody answered. They just listened and watched.

As Dwight climbed out of the hole, they heard him mumble, "Brainnnnssss. . ." They backed up, Lily pointing the gun at him.

"Ned, touch him!" Chuck said.

Ned reached out his hand and touched Dwight's forehead, but Dwight didn't die. He turned toward Ned, reached out his hands and said a bit louder, "Brainnnnnssssss. . ." while stumbling toward Ned.

Ron was mortified. "Did he say, 'brains?'"

Dwight began to pick up the pace. Lily wasted no more time in shooting Dwight. The imperfectly aimed bullet hit his right ear, leaving remnants dangling from his head, but Dwight didn't react. He moved more quickly now toward Ned. He grabbed Ned by the collar and began to pull toward him, mouth agape. It looked to Lily like Dwight was about to bite him, so she quickly ran behind Ned, and with the gun right over Ned's shoulder, she fired another bullet, this time into one of Dwight's pale dead eyes. Dwight collapsed to the ground.

"Shoot him again," Ned urged her, and she obliged. This time his head was well open.

Ron picked up a shovel and smashed it violently into Dwight's head, then looked at the rest of them. "He was a zombie." Then he looked at Hermione, eyes wide, and with seriousness in his voice said, "I don't think _anastasis_ means what you think it means."

Hermione felt a chill. This had been her fault. Was the theory wrong? Should she have used Latin instead of Greek? She didn't know. But now there were rustlings in the grass nearby. It was getting darker now, so it was harder for the rest of them to see. But they could just make out shadows, and hands reaching out of other graves.

"What's going on?" said Vivian.

"Brainnnnsssss," came a chorus. "Brainnnnssssss. . . brainnnnnnsssss."

"Bloody hell!" Ron said. "Zombies! We have to get out of here." Ron turned to run, but Hermione stopped him.

"No, Ron!" she screamed. "Listen everybody! If these really are zombies, we have to contain them. If they're anything like the movies, they'll spread. They'll start killing people and turning them into zombies. We have to stop this now while we can or we'll be responsible for the zombie apocalypse."

"How are we going to stop zombies?" Ron said.

Harry spoke up. "We didn't take Defense Against the Dark Arts for nothing," he said. "Everybody ready your wands. Except you, Ned. Put your wand away." Harry was afraid of some unexpected terror that Ned's wand might unleash in the hands of an untrained wizard with unnatural abilities.

The four trained wizards all got out their wands and began hurling every manner of magic at their disposal, but most of their spells and curses did not work except to throw the zombies backwards on their backs, but they would then get up and resume their pursuit of brains.

"Why isn't it working?" Ginny lamented.

"Maybe it's because they're already dead," Harry said.

At that, Lily began firing into the heads of the zombies, dropping all but one that she missed, until she empted the gun.

"There are more bullets in the car," Vivian said, but turning toward the car, she saw more zombies. "They're behind us!" she screamed. There was no way to fetch more bullets.

Zombies surrounded the living on all sides. Ned imagined they could perhaps break through the thinnest ranks of them and hopefully make it out alive. They backed toward each other as the zombies closed in on them.

Then Ron ran forward and kicked the closest zombie in the chest, knocking him backward. Ned picked up a large stick and began hitting zombies. Most would get back up, but some stayed down. Chuck grabbed a shovel and began swinging wildly at the zombies, sometimes striking, but mostly missing.

Harry rushed forward to kick a zombie the way Ron had, but he slipped and fell. Ginny screamed as she saw two zombies fall on top of Harry. Harry shrieked as they tore into his flesh. Ron and Hermione rushed forward and kicked the zombies off of Harry, but more of them were almost upon them, and they backed away. Harry struggled to rise to his feet, but the other two zombies tackled him again. This time, there were too many of them for Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to fight off, and they backed away. Harry grasped at the earth, lurching forward with zombies piled on top of him.

"Fight, Harry!" Ginny wailed, and she unleashed a spell that sent many of the zombies surrounding Harry flying through the air. But it was not enough.

The three watched in helpless horror as one zombie sunk his fingers into Harry's eye sockets, then ripped his head apart and began to devour his brains while Harry's once fighting arms began to twitch aimlessly.

Ginny's heart broke at that moment. "Harry!" she screamed, falling to her knees in despair. Then quickly rising with sudden resolve, she hurled curse after curse, lighting the cemetery up with her wand, but almost to no affect. The zombies were still coming.

"Why did he not disapparate?" Ron asked Hermione.

"Look," she said, and Ron turned to see Vivian pick up Harry's wand from the ground. It lay a few meters in the direction Harry had previously dragged himself toward. "He dropped it," Hermione said. " _Accio_!" The wand flew out of Vivian's hand and into Hermione's.

Then there was a whoosh. The whoosh happened again and got louder. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, until the blue police box appeared, and as soon as it was fully present, two Jedi seemed to fly through the doors brandishing green and blue light sabers. Lily and Vivian were amazed to watch the two Jedi mow through a forest of zombies with the light sabers humming and buzzing. The Jedi worked their way toward the frightened wizards and muggles. The green and blue sabers seemed to slice effortlessly through zombies, sometimes lopping off heads, sometimes slicing bodies completely in half at an angle.

Hermione watched in amazement as the two Jedi cleared space between the humans and the zombies. The speed and skill of the Jedi was a sight to behold, and the flash and buzz of light sabers was dazzling. Zombie bodies piled onto each other. There were so many that Hermione wondered if every corpse in the cemetery had risen from their graves.

"Pick up whatever you can," the older Jedi said who had the blue light saber. "Fight!"

There was not enough space to move about without the immediate danger of being swarmed by zombies. They each, Lily and Vivian included, found sticks or branches with which to fight. Ron and Chuck continued to wield shovels.

Ginny picked up a foot stone, raised it above her head and rushed into the fray, bashing the scull of one zombie, while another zombie tugged at her shirt. She swung back around, knocking the jaw loose, but the zombie was unfazed in its pursuit. Just then another zombie, lying on the ground with the bottom half of its body missing, grabbed Ginny's ankle. She fell to the ground, still clutching the stone. The zombie that had grabbed her shirt fell down with her. Both zombies were about to swarm on top of Ginny until Chuck swung her shovel into the back of the neck of one, then into the head of the other. Ginny thought Chuck looked angelic, blood splattered on her face, holding that shovel, and extending her hand. She took Chuck's hand, and Chuck helped her to her feet.

Lily felt a hand grasp her wrist. She swung wildly, but the Doctor dodged her strike, and she noticed he was among the living. "Come with me," he said. "You, too," he said to Vivian. "It'll be safe for you in the Tardis."

"Take my sister," Lily said.

"No!" Vivian protested. "I'm part of this, too. Stop protecting me!"

"Very well then," said the Doctor, but he would not leave their side. He picked up a stone in each hand and joined the fight.

Then there was a shrill scream.

"Where is that coming from?" Ginny asked.

They heard the scream again. "Help! No!" It sounded like a young girl. The Jedi fought a path to the sound of the voice, and the others followed. When they got there, they saw the young girl beating the backs of four zombies who were hovered over another dead body. Before the Jedi could get there, she, too, was taken down, and zombies were tearing into her, covering their arms in blood up to the elbows and all over their faces as they gnawed on human flesh.

"Too late!" cried the older Jedi. Then he turned to the wizards. "How many of them are there?"

"We don't know," answered Ron. "We think every grave in the cemetery must have empted at once. There's so many of them!"

"Who are you?" Hermione asked the Jedi.

"I'm Jedi Master Harsa Antyl, and this is my Padawan, Higra Viaus. We've come a long way through space and time. . ."

"Thank you," Hermione interrupted, not knowing or caring what a Jedi was or what their back story was. "You're obviously not from here. These are zombies. Until now, zombies only existed in fiction, but if that fiction has a grain of truth to it, we have to kill every last zombie. Not _one_ can escape because if he does, he'll start the zombie apocalypse. It'll spread all over the world and kill everyone."

"Right," said Harsa. "Higra," he said turning to his Padawan, "We have to make sure they don't leave the grave yard." Then he said to everyone else, "Use your weapons to herd them in. Don't let them wander off." Everyone nodded, wishing they had light sabers.

"Brainnnnsssss. . .brainnnnnssssss. . ." came the continuous dissonant chorus of hungry zombies, some who were nothing more than rickety bones, others fully fleshed out corpses. The stench saturated the air, but the adrenaline was so high, the living humans barely noticed.

Ned had picked up a bigger branch and swiped at zombie legs, then smashed their heads as they fell.

Chuck was somewhere between Ned and the aunts, not wanting to lose sight of anybody.

Ginny and Ron wept, but they continued to beat back zombies, occasionally striking them with branches, and occasionally knocking them off their feet with a swish of their wands.

Hermione's eyes were dry, and she was determined. She ran through the woods and the parking lot with her wand lit up like a beacon, but she saw no stray zombies. It appeared that all the zombies were gravitating toward the living. She grabbed a crowbar from Lily's car and made her way back to Lily and Vivian. She found Lily on her knees breathing heavily. The Doctor and Vivian were near by fighting off zombies. Hermione kneeled beside Lily and took her hand, but Lily pulled it away.

"I'm alright," Lily said. Then Chuck kneeled down in front of Lily, and Lily said once again, "I'm alright."

Hermione got back up and joined the Doctor, wielding the crow bar against zombies with great effect.

The Jedi raced around the outer edges of the cemetery with hast, lopping off the heads of every zombie they saw, but they, too, noticed that the zombies were not straying. They were all headed toward the humans.

Hermione noticed that every now and then the older Jedi would raise a hand toward a crowd of zombies, sending them hurdling backward through the air. _They must be wizards_ , she thought, _but they don't use wands_.

As the fighting went on, the sound of "brainnnssss" got quieter, but it could still be heard. It was almost completely dark now, and Ron was in constant fear of a zombie attacking him from behind. He never wandered very far from Ginny whose energy didn't seem to wane in the slightest.

In the distance, Ron could see the blue and green flashing light sabers of the Jedi, and he marveled. The Jedi were headed back, striking down zombies along the way.

Now, it became a matter of spotting a moving zombie here and there. All but the Jedi had gathered back together. As the living concentrated their numbers, the zombies also concentrated theirs because they were all headed to that one location. This made it easier for the Jedi to kill the last of them.

Amongst sobs and heavy breathing, the Doctor said, "I think we got them all."

"There may yet be some who didn't make it out of their graves," Harsa said.

"There are more that we're not seeing," said Higra.

"How can you tell?" Ned asked.

Higra said, "This doom caused a disturbance in the Force so strong that we felt it in a distant galaxy, millions of light years away, and thousands of years in the past. Believe me when I say they're still here."

"You felt it?" Ron queried. "From the past? I don't understand."

"We'll explain later," Harsa assured him. "Right now, we have to check every grave for the living dead."

Except for Chuck, Lily, and Vivian, they checked every grave. The Jedi thrust their light sabers into the ground, killing any zombie that moved and could be found. When they could find no more, Harsa and Higra sat, eyes closed, and breathed slowly. Then, opening her eyes, Higra said, "They're all gone."

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed. "I thought we had started the zombie apocalypse."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter XXII

Harry was buried in Godric's Hollow, near his parents. His tombstone read, "The boy who lived." Harry's Aunt Petunia and his cousin, Dudley, attended, but it was a small gathering. They intentionally kept it quiet because after the defeat of Voldemort, Harry was even more famous than he had been before. Nobody wanted his funeral to be a circus, Ginny especially. The Doctor and the two Jedi were also there, but Ned, Chuck, Vivian, and Lily remained in the States.

During the service, the Jedi listened with great interest to the story of how Voldemort came to power, tried to kill Harry because of a prophecy, and ultimately met his doom.

"Voldemort was not unlike a Sith Lord," Harsa whispers to Higra. "It sounds like he turned to the dark side, became drunk with power, and dabbled in unnatural magic that was forbidden in the wizarding world."

"Do you think he had an apprentice?" Higra asked. "He must have."

Harsa didn't answer, but it raised an eyebrow.

After the funeral, they all gathered at the home of the Weasley's. There was more food than appetite.

"I guess Harry finally got to be with his parents," Hermione said while staring blankly. Ron leaned against her and breathed deeply. Hermione rested her head against his.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley watched helplessly as an inconsolable Ginny pacing aimlessly around the garden.

"Ginny," said the Doctor. Ginny looked up to see him standing there with the two Jedi. She wondered if he had washed his "FREE HUGS" t-shirt or if he was wearing a different one. And why did he dress that way at a funeral? Mum and Dad wouldn't have liked that. Was he as poor as a Weasley? His sweatpants screamed, _I've given up_. On the other hand, he seemed like such a chill guy. Maybe he was just comfortable and unpretentious. Maybe, traveling the universe in a Tardis, he had a clearer perspective on what was important. "Ginny," said the Doctor again, and she woke up from her meandering thoughts. "I'm afraid I must leave you now. Harsa and Higra have to return to their galaxy in their own time."

Ginny studied the Jedi with her eyes. "You are from a galaxy far far away in the distant past, aren't you?"

"Yes," Higra said.

"The Tardis is a time machine, isn't it?" she asked the Doctor.

"It is," came his reply.

"Why couldn't you save Harry if you had a time machine?"

"Time is a funny thing. Some things can be changed and some things can't. Besides that, I don't have complete control of where the Tardis takes me. It has a mind of its own, and it takes me where I'm supposed to be. Harry was not meant to be saved. I'm sorry, Ginny." He put his hand on her shoulder.

Ginny backed away until his hand dropped. "Who decides these things?" she asked.

"Sometimes," Harsa said, "it's just the will of the Force."

Ginny wasn't sure she bought that answer, but then she wasn't really looking for an answer. She was looking for some justice in the universe. She couldn't make sense of it. To her, the universe seemed like a cold and indifferent place.

The Doctor put his hand on Ginny's shoulder again and said to her in a hushed tone, "Do you want to see the universe?"

"What?"

"In the Tardis. Come with me to take Harsa and Higra home. Then see the universe with me. I'll show you things you've only dreamed of."

"What about my family?"

"I think you could use an escape. And don't worry. The Tardis is a time machine. I can bring you back, and they'll barely notice you were gone."

"I'll do it!" Ginny said with resolve. She felt a shadow lift and caught a small glimpse of happiness she hadn't felt in several days.

That first trip wouldn't be their last. Over the next year, their trips together became more frequent and lasted longer. Sometimes they faced dangers. Sometimes the Doctor would save her. Sometimes she would save the Doctor. It was an intoxicating life-style.


End file.
